La Bella Borgia
by DaenerysTargary3n
Summary: The continuation of the love story between Cesare and Lucrezia Borgia picking up from their reunion on the road out of Naples. How will Cesare and Lucrezia handle Alfonso? The Pope? Vannozza? And what will become of the sleepers of Naples when they wake to find their charges flown? And where has Micheletto gone? True love has much that stands in its way. (M-rated for incest!)
1. A Flight from Naples

**Author's Note:**

I own none of the characters or plot elements of the Showtime show, "The Borgias". A warning also that there is going to be incest in this story, so if this disturbs you I would simply counsel that you stop reading now, however, if Cesare and Lucrezia's love moves you too, then please read on and do leave me reviews as you go!

Many thanks,

DaenerysTargary3n

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**Chapter I - A Flight from Naples**

Cesare's name had never been as sweet to his own ears as it had been in that miraculous moment when he heard his sister's dulcet tones call out to him from the wagon that he had almost allowed to pass his band of bastard sons by. He had given little consideration to Alfonso when he had greeted him, he only cared for the wellbeing of his sister and his nephew and her husband could go to hell for all the eldest Borgia child cared.

As he sprinted to take his sister into his empty arms, all he wished for was to have her in his arms once more and to never be parted from her again. He took her face in his strong hands and planted kiss upon kiss on her sweet, angelic face, a face he feared he would never see again. The small crowd of men standing behind them, hidden in the shadows of the Neapolitan forests were swiftly forgotten as the lovers were reunited.

Lucrezia had imagined that she had dreamt hearing her husband call someone on the lonely road "Brother" but once she noticed that she could no longer hear the faint sounds of his horse's hooves and then she at once ordered the carriage to halt so she could see for herself whether whom she hoped to see with Alfonso was truly there. She praised God in the moment when she poked her head from the wagon and recognised her favourite brother's curled locks and burly stature cloaked, standing in front of Alfonso's steed.

She had made every arrangement in the days preceding her family's timely flight from Naples to ensure that her plan was infallible and undetectable by the new, barbaric king, who had manipulated her with a capability of a Borgia while she had been falsely led to recommend his suit for the crown and demolish Raphael's endeavours to make himself the ruler of the city of weeds that had become a gaol to her. Her husband had disappointed her cruelly in that respect. She always knew he was a soft-hearted man – it was what initially drew her to him – but in the face of his family's captivity, she had sincerely hoped that he would throw off that cumbersome shroud of decency and act to secure their safe passage back to Rome, where the three of them would be sheltered. Upon seeing Cesare, her perpetual saviour, she was overjoyed to come face-to-face once more with her one, true kindred spirit in this life.

Once his sister had narrated to him a brief account of how she had managed to leave Naples unchecked and so quickly, he began to make arrangements so that all of them could continue their journey back to the Holy City, as they had tarried long enough on this road which was but a few miles from Naples and as much as Cesare had every faith that his sister's concoction would keep the inhabitants of that awful city in thrall for long enough, he did not wish to tease Fate any more, especially as she had already so kindly delivered Lucrezia into his waiting, open arms.

With a final kiss to his sister's palm, Cesare strode back to his brother-in-law and his condottieri, telling the latter to ready their horses once more as they were riding back to Rome and purposefully ignoring the former, whom he understood had contributed nothing to the effort to see his family safe once again. Then again, Cesare Borgia had always seen that his sister's spouse was not in possession of a backbone, but it was a fact that still vexed him.

As Alfonso and Cesare rode their horses on either side of the wagon containing the womenfolk and little Giovanni, Lucrezia found herself conveniently sitting on the side of her beloved brother. She was quite tempted to entreat him to join her in the comfort of the wagon so that she might hold his hand and be closer to him, for the night's activities had shaken her a bit, though she was loathe to reveal that to her husband and her maid was already jittery enough as it was. She felt she could only share her former fear with Cesare, from whom she could conceal nothing. She knew, though, that Cesare's new position as head of a great army required him to show at least some amount of detachment from his emotions. He had to be seen astride his horse as they arrived in Rome, he had to appear to be strong and virile, which he was, but even he would have rather held his sister in his arms than merely ride outside her carriage never once taking his eyes off her.

Colonna drove his horse up beside the Prince of Aragon, "You are a fortunate man, sir," he said, with a glint of humour in his cold eyes, "to have married into such a close-knit family, who all love each other so."

"It is good that a brother and sister are so close, my lord." Alfonso whispered back, not at all taking the other man's full meaning.

"Yes, indeed," he sniggered, "though, I think that if my wife were to show such affection to her brother, then I might reconsider that opinion. Then again, you will have heard the rumours."

Alfonso prided himself on his morality and good nature, but the lack of a question in the lord's voice startled him somewhat, "Rumours? I have heard no rumours concerning my dear wife. I only know what she has told me."

Colonna stared in surprise at Alfonso's face, but in it he saw no hint of sarcasm or deflection. The man was truly a fool if he had bound himself to the Borgia family without being privy to the tales that swamped the whole of Italy regarding the relationship between the eldest Borgia son and his younger and only sister. If he hadn't been party to the rumours, Colonna at least thought that some kind of alarm should have sounded in the prince's brain when he witnessed their passionate reunion. But maybe he had just put it down to them having red, Spanish blood flowing through their veins…

"Your silence unnerves me, my lord Colonna," Alfonso warned, "pray, do tell me what rumours circulate?"

"I, well, I," the lord of the Romagna seldom was at a loss for words, but he had no inkling how to break the news of his wife's presumed infidelity and incestuous behaviour with her brother to her unsuspecting husband, "there are certain rumours, my lord, that your wife and her brother have carnal knowledge of each other and have for many years now. There is talk that they are truly in love and that is why her husband, Giovanni Sforza, was killed by his lordship because he defiled his sister."

Alfonso took a moment to process what he had been told and it had always appeared to him that the commanding Cesare Borgia had held his sister dearly in his heart and forever was she foremost in his thoughts, but never had such sin and amorality crossed his mind. He observed how his Lucrezia was gazing out of her carriage window at her brother and how from time to time, said brother returned those gazes with a warm smile. He had watched from afar as they had kissed on the road and he knew in his heart that his wife would never embrace him like that or bestow such love on him, but he had assumed that was because she had always had her brother protect her and they shared a close bond, but a bond between siblings, but could it possibly be that siblings never behaved so, only lovers did?

Colonna saw the doubt spreading through Alfonso as he never spoke another word on the subject, so Cesare's mercenary lord fell back to the rear of the wagon and he knew he had either committed a grave error or he had aided his master on his quest to keep his sister for himself, yet only time would tell.

It was dawn when the cavalcade of escapees rode into Rome and up to the walls of the Vatican, where it was determined that Lucrezia and her family should stay instead of their mother's villa, where Cesare knew he could not keep as firm an eye on them as he would wish to. Alfonso did not wait for his wife, which she thought odd, but led the way to their chambers which Cesare informed them had been untouched since their departure. Cesare took Alfonso's place and walked beside his sister, at one point wresting Giovanni from her arms, so as to feel his innocence in his own as they climbed the stairs.

"It does not feel like home," Lucrezia whispered as she watched Cesare deposit her son in his undersized cot.

"Are you lost, sis?"

Lucrezia only made a small sound of assent as she walked to her brother's side and helped him to lay Giovanni down, as the poor, sweet child had been overtaxed by the journey and was restlessly trying to fall asleep.

"He will need a bigger cot," Cesare pronounced, removing Giovanni's petite travelling cape, "and so will he."

Alfonso's presence in the main chamber caught the siblings' eyes and they exchanged a brief smile before Cesare took his leave and Lucrezia flew into her welcoming bed as Alfonso inquired after what had made her smile so.

"You did," she said, with a false smile, she had perfected whilst in Pesaro, "because you are the joy of my life, the light of my days."

Alfonso felt as though his eyes had been opened to the truth which had always been before him, but he was too stupid to see it, "You know that I know that is not true."

Lucrezia saw a change in her husband's eyes, one which frightened her to her core. He had grown a pair, but at the most inconvenient of moments. She knew that she and Cesare had acted impulsively when they had found each other again, but at that moment she could not care for anything but being back in her lover's arms, but now, she could see it in Alfonso's chocolate brown eyes that he _knew_. She had no response to give to that kind of fatal knowledge.


	2. A Love Like No Other

**Author's Note:**

Pretty much one big, long sex scene, so I hope you enjoy it! Please do leave reviews for this chapter in particular, as I am forever trying to improve my technique ;) …in writing sex scenes and I haven't written one in this much detail for quite a while!

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**Chapter II - A Love Like No Other**

Alfonso had gone to the steward and requested his own chambers for the night, citing a fever as an excuse to avoid gossip. He was starting to grow weary of the marriage that he now realised was only political to the Borgia clan and he had committed himself to it with such vigour and love for his lady, whom it had emerged was her brother's lady and had been all the while they had been married.

Lucrezia made no move to quash his thoughts on her relationship with her brother instead she had merely rolled over and feigned slumber. In that moment, Alfonso, who had never felt less deserving of his title, decided that if she was not going to try and deny or hide her true love's desire then he was tired of playing her dutiful husband when in her mind's eye, her brother was all the dutiful husband she needed and wanted.

Cesare had dismissed his officers and had collapsed onto his own bed after checking one last time that his darling sister had every protection possible, though he had found it bizarre that it was reported to him that her husband had abandoned her bed for the night, preferring to sleep in his own company. Strange behaviour for one so dependent on his bride's ingenuity and strength of character on account of his lack of one, but Cesare was not one to complain when his love's husband did not get to have her when he could not.

During the night, he heard the soft sounds of a babe awakening and he listened intently waiting to hear his sister's soft, soothing voice as she consoled her restless infant. It worried him, therefore, when instead of quietening, the child began to wail, resulting in his uncle rising from his warm bed to go to the adjoining bedchamber to investigate what had caused his nephew to fuss so.

"He will not calm down, brother," Lucrezia said fretfully, "he will not eat, he needs no change, but still he refuses to be quiet. Did he rouse you?"

Cesare smiled as he stood beside his sister, "I was already awake, sis, but give him here and we'll see if his Uncle Cesare cannot get him to be good for his lovely mother."

Willingly, she handed over her child, who beguilingly simmered down once he was pressed against his uncle's bare breast. It both pleased and irritated her that when she could not pacify her child, the perfection that was Cesare Borgia could do so in an instant and that Giovanni sensed that here was a man who loved him as unconditionally as did she and would be the only man to truly love him and his mother as they ought to be loved.

Holding his nephew, taking care of his head, Cesare glided about the bedchamber, gracefully bobbing up and down, humming a quadrille tune softly as the littlest Borgia was lulled back to sleep. Once he was satisfied that the baby would not disturb them be waking up again, he sidled over to his cot and set him gently down in it, tucking him in with a fond smile.

"You are so good with him, Cesare."

Turning to face his sister, he replied, "He is like a son to me, my love, you know that."

"Is that love the only reason I find you in my bedchamber at this ungodly hour?"

"Well, I suppose it might have something to do with my wife being in France and the report I heard that your own husband chose to spend tonight away from your side," Cesare responded to her teasing with a smile.

Lucrezia approached him cautiously, ever giving him the chance to retreat from her, if he so desired, but she knew that if he hadn't departed by now, he would not this evening. She wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing her hands to run through his luxurious, long hair freely as she pressed her lips onto his and smiled against them as they parted for her to explore his mouth with her tongue.

He pulled her hard against him and responded to her kiss passionately while he gripped her feminine hips, still covered in her flimsy, silk nightgown. He tried to rectify that by pulling her attire up until it pooled in his hands at her upper thighs, but she was so unwilling to release his lips that he was forced to let the material cover her once more, so he gripped her firmly by the buttocks and lifted her, enabling her to quickly wrap her elegant legs about his waist as he carried her back to her bed.

"Cesare, you are wearing too many clothes," she whispered as she littered his bare chest with kisses, taking her time to drive him insane as she teased his nipples with her clever tongue.

He let out a gruff snort, "I am wearing far less than you, my love, so you first."

Lucrezia knelt over him as she undid the laces of her blue nightgown as she had done on their first night together and slid it sensuously from her body, watching as he in turn gazed upon her in wonderment as her shoulders were bare, then her breasts, followed by her stomach and finally the very essence of her.

Gratified by his reaction to her nakedness, she asked flirtatiously, "Do I please you, lover?"

Her lover could do naught but push his own clothes from his body in response to her absurd question, which revealed his own hardness for her.

Lucrezia had had enough of the mindless talking when there were better things to be done at the moment. She wanted nothing more than to feel the love for which she had risked all to feel and to share. Without hesitation, she climbed above him and gradually impaled herself on his member and sheathed him in her warmth as she moaned in delight.

There was no sweeter sensation to the man beneath the envy of Italy than feeling her walls stretch to accommodate him and her wetness coating him. He echoed her earthy groan as she sunk lower and lower until she had filled herself until his hilt. He gave her full control, for it was all she craved and the only place she could truly assert her control was in the boudoir, so he voluntarily permitted her to best him, not that he would not be benefitting from her overpowering him, after all, she was Lucrezia Borgia…

As she rode him, keeping her speed nigh on leisurely, she watched in awe as his body rippled and contorted as he gripped her tighter and tighter, unwilling to allow even a millimetre of space to exist between them both. She adored the sensation of Cesare writhing beneath her, utterly lost in the love that they bore for each other. Nothing had ever pleased her more, besides giving birth to her son, than realising that her brother loved her as no other could.

"Sis, you're torturing me," he whimpered, "please…"

With that plea, Lucrezia spared her brother and grinded into him harder, deeper and faster, carrying them both to heights of paradise, which they had experienced together too rarely and far too long ago.

Despite endeavouring to wipe the incident from her memory, Lucrezia could not help but recall the last time she was intimate with a man and how Cesare had been present then too, but she was not lost in his arms or feeling him heave into her on that day, instead she had been compelled to give herself to her husband, who had no skill in the arts of _amour_ and had tried to make love to her as if she were a whore in a brothel, and not even a Roman brothel at that. Her heart had shattered when Cesare had brought her the news that she would be put on display before the loathsome King of Naples and she had felt guilty since the words that forced her one true love to spectate as she coaxed her husband into a bed, but she had caught Cesare's eyes as Alfonso had pawed at her futilely and then and only then was she brought to rapture and very little of that feeling was down to her bed mate.

The captive of her heart and body felt her errant mind stray from their coitus and become distracted, so in one fell swoop, he turned the tides on her and exchanged their positions, which brought her from her dark recollections and allowed him to hasten the conclusion of their lovemaking. He pushed back the strands of curled blonde hair from her face and kissed her fiercely, guiding her back to the present and she responded in kind, giving him full access to her and she held his firm bottom to her, encouraging to move deeper within her.

Cesare felt her begin to tremble as her eyes squeezed themselves closed and her brow furrowed in anticipation of her release. He quickened his pace and tilted slightly, which was met with rabid approval as his beautiful lover, who had so far managed to keep relatively quiet for the sake of the slumbering child, began to moan loudly. Anxious lest she scream, Cesare returned reclaimed her lips in his and after no time, he felt her come around him and as he followed suit he kept them both quiet as they both mutely bellowed in pleasure into each other's mouths.

After remaining in her for a minute as they caught their breath, he rolled off her but kept her wrapped tightly in his arms, savouring in the moment when they could be with each other and not hide behind smoke and mirrors. She in turn curled up into his muscular chest and fully contented, she fell asleep as Cesare murmured his love to her as he always used to when he put her to bed when they were younger and how he did the last time they were truly together.

"Goodnight, my dearest love," Cesare said one last time, pressing a kiss to her temple as he took his leave, unwilling to be discovered should Alfonso return to his conjugal bed early in the morning. Still basking in the afterglow of their love, he turned his thoughts to his sister's husband and knew that the pair of them would have to speak regarding what to do about Alfonso d'Aragon…


	3. His Only Code

**Author's Note:**

This is a short chapter, but I wanted to bring in my third 'protagonist' of this fanfiction now and give his character a bit more background than he has in the show, so I hereby welcome Micheletto Corella into this story. Enjoy and please review.

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**Chapter III - His Only Code**

Micheletto had never been a common man, truly, it had always been remarked that there was either something special or singular about the boy, who then grew into a man. His mama had worshipped him as a boy, never able to tolerate anyone faulting him for anything. He was her darling boy, though after his father's death, he had fled his hometown, not for shame or to escape justice, but because he could no longer look his mother in the eyes after he had slaughtered her husband and his father.

Despite his father's misogynistic cruelty to his mother and his three younger sisters, which he had witnessed throughout his formative years and caused him to hate his father, his mother would have never forgiven him had she ever been told the truth of what occurred on that day in the fields. His bastard of a father had deserved every blow and merited every stab, but his family had clung to him as their breadwinner and paterfamilias, but after Violetta, his youngest sister had come to him weeping in the night with scratch marks on her legs and a ripped skirt, he had borne enough of his father's debauchery and viciousness, so he had killed him without remorse. Violetta was his favourite and she alone knew the truth of what punishment he had exacted on their father, but he knew she would hide his act as she would conceal her father's final act of cruelty against her, for he was her brother and he had been her saviour in her time of dire need.

He had found his vocation, his talent, his livelihood in that moment. He would become a sellsword and an assassin, one to rival Rufio of Imola, whom Caterina Sforza had bred and nurtured to become her man as he had become Cesare Borgia's. He had been in the service of Cardinal Orsini when he had had the only change of heart he had ever experienced and asked to be retained by Cardinal Borgia, as he was then. Since that fateful day, he had scoured Italia and committed heinous acts and killed so many souls in the Borgias' name but never had he regretted any death or torture until he had been instructed to dispatch Pascal.

Micheletto had always abided by the philosophy that affection led to weakness and if one had a weakness that could be exploited, then your enemies would always find it and use it. It was why he had deceived his family about what he was truly doing for a living, so that none might discover the family of the infamous Micheletto Corella, assassin of Cesare Borgia. If he was to be honest with himself, he had borne an affection for a man before Pascal, he had come to care for his master, but not as an object of his lust, but as a companion and a brother in arms. He knew that he was the most trusted man to the young Borgia, else he would never have been entrusted with the Lady Lucrezia's safety in Naples. Micheletto had honoured the trust his master and friend had bestowed on him and returned it, when he disclosed the nature of his…affections to Cesare the day before he killed his lover.

Cesare had always filled his purse well, so contemplating his exit from Rome was of no financial consequence. He had coin enough. As he sat, naked, dripping in blood, the blood of a traitor and a lover, he knew he could no longer serve his lord. It was because of him that Rufio had been given word of Cesare's intentions and the Tarantula of Forli had been alerted to their moves in The Game. To be fair, their traitor had had his comeuppance for his crimes against Micheletto and Borgia but his betrayal was not lessened in the assassin's heart by that truth.

He had left his master a one-worded farewell message and he had saddled his horse and packed his paltry possessions and quit Rome for different horizons, for those of Rome had become too familiar to him. He would not leave any trail for his former liege lord to pursue him by; he would disappear for as long as it took him to atone for his mistakes and to be cleansed from his one true sin against his conscience.

He steered his horse towards Florence, where he knew he could be of use to the Medici family and Signor Macchiavelli and they would contract him willingly, as they had already seen his work for Cesare. It would be two days until he reached the city and he would sleep in the outdoors and not entrust his life to any cheap tavern owner who cadged his clientele for any spare coin they had about them while they slept. Besides, he preferred his own company.

As he sat on the cold, hard floor that evening, Micheletto thought of what it was that had drawn him to take Pascal to his bed after having him and then to give him leave to remain, even erring so much as to let him into his heart, which had been frozen for so many years. Not even Augustino had elicited that kind of emotional sentiment from him and he had felt his flesh against his own many times, yet after only a few times with Pascal, Micheletto had released the constraints barring his heart from love…and from being broken and yet, he had still been betrayed.

Micheletto recalled the time he first discovered he was not as other men were. He had crept home in the dark of night after hunting in the woods, but fruitlessly and he had heard strange noises coming from behind the house, noises of pain. He had been stunned to see that his father was pressed against a young girl's body, holding her captive against a brick wall and it was plain to see that she was not there willingly. Micheletto, as a young teenage boy, knew how rare it wasn't that his father was concealing a tryst from his mother, but when he heard a name fall callously from his father's lips, everything changed for the young man.

"Gianna!"

He froze in response to this name. It was the name of his younger sister, his dear thirteen year old sister. He looked once more at his father and at whom he was fucking and saw the tendrils of wavy ginger hair, hair that did indeed belong to Gianna, who was weeping as much as she was groaning from the pain their father was inflicting upon her.

Micheletto determined at that moment that he would never love a woman, nor make love to a woman, not after he had seen what his father had done to Gianna, who had thereupon killed herself when it was discovered she was with child, the parentage of which was known only to Micheletto and Guido Corella. The son hated the father, the son killed the father, who had in his eyes, killed his own daughter and then violated another, but Micheletto would not allow Violetta, his innocent sister, to meet the same fate of Gianna.

Soon after he had become disgusted by the thought of lying with women, he found himself oddly partial to the male form and spirit, mostly since it seemed to him that men could defend themselves, he would never be able to crush a man's spirit, nor take a man by force and men should have the strength to bear the pain of penetration, much more than women or girls. It was then that Augustino had caught his eye and they started to meet in secret in the cemetery. After each nocturnal round of activity, Micheletto always left a flower at the grave of his beloved, dead sister to remind himself why despite his actions being abhorrent in the eyes of God, the Holy Mother Church and society, in his eyes, it was how he protected those like his sister, whom he had not protected in her time of need.

Micheletto knew that in his own way, Cesare suffered from having a forbidden love, but it was the love he bore for his sister, which initially disgusted him, but he saw that it was not as his own father had 'loved' his daughter, but instead, Lucrezia loved Cesare back and he knew that nothing untoward had happened between them. The only way his master knew to show his love how he cared for her was to protect her and to be there for her at every juncture, which provoked Micheletto into respecting Cesare Borgia more, for he did not give fuel to the rumours that flew about concerning their relationship. So, when he had caught on to the plot to hold the Lady Lucrezia (of whom the assassin had become fond of while he was assigned to her protection in Naples), Giovanni and Alfonso hostage for Caterina Sforza's use, Micheletto was aghast that his master's strategy to rescue his family might have been disclosed to the enemy through him sent him into a furious rage and it was then that Micheletto knew he had lost his worth to the Borgia family.


	4. La Sacra Famiglia

**Chapter IV - La Sacra Famiglia**

Rodrigo Borgia was a lion of a man. He feared nothing and he desired nothing more than to be the alpha male of all Europe, or at least, all Italy. He provided for his cubs and he had many lionesses at his side, two of whom (at least) had made their peace with each other and worked well together for his ends. The cubs, who had survived, really, only Cesare and Lucrezia, were in line to succeed their father as great members of the Borgia family. Gioffre had been sent away to create his own pride and Juan had been eliminated by the stronger Borgia son when he had threatened other members of the pride.

Rodrigo had only loved two women in his life: the mother of his children, Vannozza Cattaneo and La Bella Farnese, Giulia. Since the attempt on his life, he had dismissed the latter to a deluxe palace that was still in close proximity to the Vatican, so she could still attend him when he wished or have her brought to him swiftly if he found her handwriting on official papal documents.

Giulia was in the Vatican on the morning after Lucrezia had returned to the Eternal City as she was visiting her brother, who was still drowning under the sea of erroneous papal account statements. She went to the apartments, kept for the 'Holy Family' and waltzed into Lucrezia's bedchamber to find the girl holding her child on her bed and playing with him. The sight brought a smile to Giulia's lips and a tear to her eye.

"Good day, Lucrezia," she greeted her friend with a bow, "I am glad to see you returned home."

"Giulia," she replied with a kind nod.

"Does your father know you are here?"

"Cesare went to inform him this morning after he came to see Giovanni this morning," Lucrezia lied as to her brother's purpose in coming again in the morning, "then he believes the Holy Father will wish to see me."

La Bella Farnese observed that there was something out of the ordinary with the Pope's only daughter, whom she looked on as a younger sister, if not her daughter. She would not pry directly into why Lucrezia seemed distant and occupied, but she was sure she would soon find out in spite of what her former lover had told her this morning.

"Why are you here, Giulia?" Lucrezia asked, trying not to sound harsh, "You seem to seldom visit my father these days."

Giulia looked at her feet in embarrassment, "Your father has tired of my attentions," she retorted, "he has sent me away and I am to be married now and my fiancé lives in Sorrento, so I must travel to live with him there away from Rome, so I am afraid I will see you rarely after my wedding next week."

Lucrezia was stunned by the news. She had been aware that her father had returned to her mother for his pleasure, but she also knew that Giulia had been a part of their small family for a while and she had found a friend in her, with whom she had no wish to part. La Bella Farnese was a name infamous throughout the whole of Italy for being the Pope's mistress and a promiscuous woman before her association with the Borgias, so it shocked Lucrezia that a respectable man would espouse her. She had experienced at first hand the dislike and hate that had stemmed from her marriages that she had made as the Scandal of Italy, but she had come with a large dowry and the favour of the Pope of Rome. What could Giulia give a husband that would cause him not to resent her for sharing her bed with such a great man?

"Be careful, my lady," she warned, "and I shall miss you and write to you in Sorrento."

Giulia smiled serenely at her young friend and leant down to embrace her where she sat and placed a kiss on Giovanni's bonneted head and then walked out of the apartment.

"That lady is a great lady, my sweet boy," Lucrezia whispered to her son, "she taught your mother many things, she even told your mama that you were coming. I hope one day you will get to meet La Bella Farnese."

Soon after Giulia's exodus, bold footsteps resounded in the hallway outside Lucrezia's bedchamber heralding the arrival of her father and she suspected her brother was accompanying her father. Hopefully, Cesare would not look so affronted by her the day after they had made love like he had last time on her wedding night. Then again, he had promised that they would never again be parted from each other whereas in the aftermath of their first time, he had still been confused and mostly ashamed by what he had done to his little sister, so there was yet reason to be optimistic.

"Daughter, you have come home," Rodrigo Borgia bellowed as he entered her room with arms wide open, "and we are pleased to see you safe and with our beloved grandson."

"Father," Lucrezia greeted him as she embraced him and handed her son to his grandfather before sneaking a look at her brother.

Cesare looked stiff, but then again, in his father's presence, he was always stiff. He did, however, have a smile teasing at the corners of his lips, just enough for her to notice it, but hidden enough to escape their father's eye. She could not have been more pleased at that moment, as in that miniscule gesture, her beautiful brother had told her all she needed to know. He had shown her that he would no longer run from their love and that he was fully committed to them in spite of all that would obstruct their love.

"Where is our son-in-law this morning? Is he not with you?"

Lucrezia felt all eyes on her in that following moment, the searching eyes of her brother and the perplexed older eyes of her father, "No, Holy Father, he was indisposed last night after our journey so he took his rest elsewhere."

The Pope was unsure, but he thought he detected a tone of resigned indifference to her husband's state in his child's voice, yet he did not give it another thought. He imagined that it must be difficult for Lucrezia to maintain a sense of affection in her marriage after the debacle that was its incredibly public consummation, a topic they had never broached after its happening.

"We were…surprised," he continued, with a disapproving glance at his other child, "to learn that the King of Naples was in league with Caterina Sforza and that you were his hostage, my pet. Your brother here thought it prudent to keep such intelligence from our sacred person and that has displeased us greatly."

Cesare rolled his eyes at his father's complaint, utterly bemused that he had yet again not managed to earn his father's approval by acting for the good of the family and hastening to Naples to secure his sister, who – as chance and luck would have it – had achieved her own liberation and that of her family without his assistance, or that of Rome and its Pope.

The woman saw her brother's temper flare, "Father, I believe you are too harsh on Cesare," she cautioned, unwilling to see her family bicker, "there was no harm done in his having no time to inform you of our sorry condition before he rode to our rescue, though that was unnecessary. You should be praising him for discovering the true nature of our stay in Naples."

Rodrigo merely grunted his dubious assent, folding to his daughter's words. He was growing ever more aware that his eldest son was straying from his side and his dreams and gradually acquiring his own. This tore him from his father's company more often than said father would want and although the proud Rodrigo Borgia would never confess it to his son, he had grown fond of their conspiring and conniving together in recent years and he missed his son's presence in the Vatican sorely.

"Father, I have some business I must discuss with my sister in private," Cesare announced, having grown tired of his father's censure, "so I will attend you in a while in your study, if it would please you."

"Yes, Cesare, that would please us greatly, do join us when you, the commander of a great army and leader of men, can spare a moment."

As the Pope's billowing, white robes flashed against the gold leaf of the walls, his rapid departure gave Cesare no opportunity to pursue him and offer his opinion that if his father was going to be sarcastic, he might not have time to ask his thoughts on what their next move should be, however, the slighted son rather wished to be alone with his sister at any rate.

"What business, brother?" Lucrezia asked, tearing his mind away from its calumnies of the Holy Father.

He looked uncomfortable, but responded nevertheless, "The business of your husband, my love."

She pulled him to sit beside her on the bed so they could talk while the child played with his sleeves, utterly unaware of his mother and uncle's anxieties concerning her husband.

"I love you, my love, you know that," Cesare told her, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, "but I will not share you any longer with that pup you call your husband. Moreover, he has lost his worth, now that Naples is in the pocket of Caterina Sforza, so I propose that you petition our father for a divorce or annulment – whatever – citing his uselessness as cause."

Lucrezia heard his words and was both exhilarated and grieved by them. It was of immense joy to her, hearing Cesare claim her for his lover and his alone and she truly wished to give herself to him fully, but it was not a pleasant thought when she pondered severing her ties with Alfonso, who already suspected she would never be his entirely, an action that would wound him greatly. Alfonso had shown himself to be a kind soul, a gentle man and a loving husband and although he would never be her passion, she did love him, but more in the way of brother and sister, whereas she loved her true brother as a woman loves a man, or more importantly, as a wife loves her husband. Still, she did not wish him to be hurt unnecessarily.

"I will do as you bid, Cesare."

Thereupon, he kissed her passionately, pushing her under him as they collapsed back onto the bed, ever mindful of the little boy playing behind them, "Good. I will then convince the Holy Father to stave off any other plans to marry you off he might have, possibly, even going so far as to tell him you are never to marry against your will, for now that I have my army, Italy lies at our Borgia feet, dearest."

"God help us all." Lucrezia murmured as she drew her brother's lips to hers once more.


	5. His Holiness

**Author's Note:**

I would just like to express my sincere gratitude to all those who have written me reviews, favourited this story and are following it, it makes writing it all the more worthwhile! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

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**Chapter V - His Holiness**

His Holiness, Pope Alexander Sextus sat in the Chair of St. Peter listening while Cardinal Farnese waffled on and on about the papal accounts much to the entire consistory's annoyance, for the quite astute and naïve young cardinal had a voice that droned incessantly and was successful in lulling a few of the elder cardinals to sleep on more than one occasion during his report. Rodrigo was particularly hard done by as he was the only one excepting the speaker who knew that the figures and information that Farnese was passing on to the rest of the consistory was false and doctored. If there was one thing to be said for Giulia's brother, it was that he had kept his word and had continued to present the true state of the treasury only to the Pope himself.

After leaving his family that morning, he was resolved to speak to his eldest child on the matter of his furtiveness of late, which Vannozza had advised him to do, but he had never been dismissed by his son until this morning in Lucrezia's bedchamber, when he had so easily been excused from his children's discussion of his daughter's 'business', which was yet another secret kept from him that plagued his spirit.

As Cardinal Farnese took a breath, he stood, "Forgive us, Your Eminences, we have been afflicted with a sudden headache and wish to take a brief respite. Unless there are any matters of urgency, we shall push today's agenda to tomorrow's assembly?"

His subordinates proceeded to concur and started to vacate the room while Rodrigo walked with his Vice Chancellor, the steadfast Cardinal Sforza, back to his chambers.

"Should I call for your physician, Holy Father?" Ascanio asked with perfectly dissembled concern.

The Pope waved his question off, "No, Cardinal, we would only wish that you send for our son and daughter that we might speak to them on personal matters."

When Lucrezia and Cesare entered their father's private study in a flourish of crimson silk on the part of the lady and the darkest maroon clad gentleman, whose appearance was made yet more startling by the harsh tones of his apparel Rodrigo motioned for them to sit before him

"What is the matter, father?" Lucrezia asked, endeavouring to conceal her nervousness.

Rodrigo closely examined them, inspecting their faces, looking for any signs of conspiracy or conniving, "Well, my child, it seems that there is something amiss between the two of you and we would be party to it, as it appears improbable to us that you both, who were ever the most cordial of our offspring, have secret business that bodes well for Rome and our family, so we would urge you most strongly to disclose your affairs to us, your _father_."

"Father, we were going to beg you for an audience later today to discuss the matter…the matter of Lucrezia's marriage to Alfonso d'Aragon." Cesare informed him confidently.

"Our daughter's marriage?" The Pope could not hide his surprise, "What of it? Is there issue or impediment?"

Lucrezia answered with a slight shake of her head, unwilling to risk all by putting her feelings into words, as she would permit her brother to offer his own thoughts before her own, as was the way with their family. Her father would most likely pay more heed to Cesare's advice than her own counsel.

Cesare stood and paced about the room, "The alliance has always been of a political nature, which we made in order to secure ties with Naples, however, now that the King of Naples has so clearly joined forces with Forli, we have no need to maintain Alfonso as Lucrezia's husband. It is now an obsolete match and it ought to be annulled, so we do not appear weak as we maintain our familial bond with the relation of he who would sell my sister and her child to Caterina Sforza on a mere whim! Moreover, father, Alfonso would be of no use in Rome regardless of his parentage. He is a cowardly specimen, indeed, and I cannot think what purpose he would serve here. It would not do for him to join the ranks and take up arms against his kin – an event that is fast bearing down on us – neither has he any skill in diplomacy or practicalities, which I observed as I negotiated the dowry. It would be better to send him back to that cesspit from whence he came!"

The reasons why divorcing Lucrezia from her husband had been listed calmly at first, but as Cesare had become more incensed as he strayed into his perception of Alfonso. While the other occupants of the room waited for the main speaker to catch his breath and cool his temper, Rodrigo sat in thought and watched as his daughter rose to pour them all a cup of wine, handing the first cup to her brother, who accepted it with a grateful smile and a reassuring squeeze of her arm.

"We hear what you are saying, my son," he said hesitantly, "and you do make a valid case, but do you truly believe it to be the best course of action to simply return Alfonso to his family, whom we understand were left in a drugged stupor as you," he gestured to his daughter, "fled the city of your captivity and are most likely vying for Borgia blood as we speak?"

"Truly, that thought had not crossed my mind…" Cesare acknowledged, glancing uneasily at his love.

The father and son shared a look, a look the third person understood and knew well, but could not believe that either of them was considering that option at all.

"No! No, I forbid it! Cesare," she shouted, glaring at her brother with teary eyes, "I cannot believe you, who have just told us how harmless my husband is, could contemplate killing him! He would not hurt a fly!"

"I know, my love, but you remember his cousin, who would not bat an eyelid at harming a fly, or us – or you – for that matter," Cesare retorted, tugging her into his protective arms, "and as your husband, Alfonso has been privy to your habits, to mine, to servants, all of which could be used against us by the Neapolitans and that I will not allow!"

Her tears fell freely down her cheeks and splattered the marble floor as she saw that Cesare's words were sound and his strategy was logical, but morbidly logical.

"Daughter, do you wish to be released from this marriage? We have not heard your opinion as of yet."

Lucrezia turned away from the heaving chest that had supported her as she wept, "Father, I believe the time has come for Alfonso to no longer be my family, but I do not wish him to be killed, he does not deserve that fate. Can we really not just let him go?"

"No, sweet Lucrezia," he replied, trying to be as kind and gentle as he could, "if you are divorced, our family must be secure at all costs, so our son-in-law will have to be dealt with, though, under the circumstances, we shall – of course – ensure that it is as painless as possible. Perhaps a paralytic and then a swift-acting poison, eh Cesare?"

He grimaced but nodded, "I would sooner choose my own methods, father, but I share your desire for him to be spared any pain. I have nothing against his lordship."

Lucrezia shot her brother an irate glare, knowing his last statement to be false. He begrudged Alfonso his wife, which was not something to be disclosed to their father, but all the same, she disapproved of him lying unnecessarily to the Pope.

"Very well, then," His Holiness said with a nod, rising from his bureau, "it is decided. Cesare, you shall arrange _discreetly _for your brother-in-law to be dispatched and we will have no need for a divorce and if you can devise a method that has the appearance of natural or forces not on the Borgia payroll, then so much the better, for we would prefer to avoid more scandal spreading throughout the whole of Italy labelling our family as the murderers of one of its own members. Then, the King of Naples might see it as folly to attack us and stay his hand if the other noble families perceive Alfonso's death as out of our hands."

"I understand completely, father," Cesare grumbled with a curt nod and a pull on Lucrezia's sleeve, drawing her with him as he made for the doors, "it shall be done as you have said. The matter will be concluded in a few days."


	6. Flight or Fight

**Author's Note:**

I am stunned by the positive feedback which I have had for this story! Thank you all, ever so much! I had no idea this story would be so popular, so my gratitude for surprising me as well. This chapter contains a paraphrasing of a scene from the show, so please forgive me for that, but I thought it was such a nice piece of work that I wanted to include it (with my own alterations naturally).

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**Chapter VI - Flight or Fight**

"Cesare," Lucrezia wailed, "Cesare, you must not kill him! You simply must not!"

He flung her into her chambers and bolted the doors behind them, leaving them alone with each other, "Sis, I do not wish to kill him, but he does possess vital information that – at all costs – must not fall into the hands of the Sforzas or any of our many, other enemies. Surely you can see that?"

She nodded, defeated in the matter and knowing it was futile to attempt to sway her brother from his goal, no matter how grim a goal it was. Her one concern now was for how Alfonso was going to meet his untimely end and how she might ease his passing as much as she could under the circumstances.

Cesare saw what she was thinking clearly on her face, "My love, I shall not let him suffer one instant of unnecessary pain. I have already chosen my method of assassination and I promise you that I have never killed anyone with such delicacy."

Lucrezia was not so naïve that she had chosen to turn a blind eye to Cesare's night-time activities with Micheletto, so she comprehended the full meaning behind her lover's words, yet it still grieved her that he would be forced to have yet another one of his brother-in-law's blood stain his handsome hands along with the blood of countless others whom he had killed 'for the good of the family'. It was another one of those moments where she could only sigh as she wished that she and Cesare could have been something other than merely members of the grand house of Borgia. Their lives and their mother's, brothers' and son's lives might have been so much better had they not have been so driven by their father's lust for power, a trait he then instilled in the rest of his family.

"Now, rest for a while," he said, with a kiss to her forehead as he placed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, "you look fatigued and trust me, tomorrow will be a long day."

Cesare left his sister's chambers after settling her into her bed and went in search of Giovanni and his nursemaid, something he was accustomed to when faced with a particularly gruelling task which he was not looking forward to. The child's innocence was a comfort to him when all he seemed to be engulfed with was culpability and evil; it was as though Giovanni's purity (which he knew existed in spite of his illegitimacy) washed away his sins, much more than any base confession with a corrupt cardinal. As much as he loved the boy's mother, he adored her son…_his _son. No man would ever love him more than him, he was sure of it. He just wished as he cradled his godson in his strong arms and beheld the smile of recognition in his cherubic face as he recognised the face of his uncle, that Giovanni could truly be his child.

"Sweet Giovanni, shall we take a turn about the palace?" he asked sweetly as he dismissed the nurse and walked out of the nursery with the boy.

A while after Cesare had begun his tour of the palace and taken the boy on an inspection of the barracks, an unfortunate encounter occurred.

"Brother, what a pleasant surprise," Alfonso shouted, "will you spar with me?"

He sighed, unwilling to take on his brother-in-law with swords, especially while he was holding the small toddler, "Brother-in-law Alfonso, you do not want to fight me."

"On first name terms, yet you still cannot call me 'brother', could you not love me as a brother? Or did you not love your own brother?"

This Spanish prick was beginning to irk the other Spanish prick up the wrong way, "I loved him dearly, my lord, but alas, you are not my brother."

"So, shall we spar? Or are you too preoccupied babysitting your sister's bastard child? Or is he some other Borgia's child too?" Alfonso asked tauntingly, egging his opponent in everything on.

Cesare had heard enough. He called for a guard, to whom he passed his nephew and quickly drew his blade from its scabbard with a shuddering whistle and approached his opponent with malice in his eyes, hoping to punish him severely for his words against his sister's reputation, and his own.

As Alfonso made the first move, it became evident that when he had asked to spar, he had meant duel, only Cesare hoped he did not mean to the death, for if he did, the prince would not be spending one more day on Italian soil before he ended up beneath it, for there was no way he could overcome the renowned Cesare Borgia in a swordfight.

"I thought you said spar?" Cesare asked as he parried a violent blow, one that had no place in a sparring match.

"We are sparring," he replied, smiling as he almost gained the upper hand.

The men continued to trade blows for a minute. Cesare was taken aback by the other man's skills with a blade, as he had always deemed him a sop who could not wield a blade adequately enough to save his life. Alfonso knew well the tales of violence and death that surrounded the name of Cesare Borgia, but he was fighting for more than his own good name. He was fighting for his honour and his wife. The wife whom he knew did not love him, but cherished her brother's heart instead.

"I have heard the rumours, my lord," Alfonso teased as they continued to skirt around each other, "and I cannot help but wonder just how much sin abounds in this Vatican of yours, in your own family."

Cesare snorted, unwilling to be goaded into error by his taunting, "That is your family as well, Alfonso, or have you forgotten your marriage already?"

"My marriage has grooms enough," he spat back with a dangerous glint in his eye.

"I do not take your meaning, sir."

"I hear that this marriage of _mine _could do with one less husband, however, depending on which man took his leave, the bride would either be ecstatic or distressed."

The duellers stared at each other, both incensed, both vying for the other's blood, yet they both were endeavouring with all their might to control their urges to decimate their opponent. It was only when the din of a distraught child bounded about the room that Cesare decided that he had endured enough of the charade and moved swiftly and decisively to outdo Alfonso d'Aragon, who was never a true match for him, but he had opted to give his brother-in-law a chance at a fair fight.

"Be careful of your words, my lord," Cesare warned, lowering his sword from Alfonso's jugular and striding back to the guard trying to quiet the wailing boy in his armour-clad arms, "I do hold you so dear to my heart and it would sadden me greatly to be parted from you."

The fatal caution was flowing freely from his every word into the ears of the listener and although Alfonso could maintain a swordfight well, he had never taken up arms in battle or war, only in a training room and the victor's words hit a nerve deep within him. He saw his demise. He saw the future in his relative's eyes and it scared him. He saw that Cesare's final words to him were not words of affection or devotion, but they were intimation that he should remain within the walls of this unholy place and simply await his death at the hands of his wife's family.

As he watched the perpetrator soothe his charge, Alfonso wondered how such a cold and callous man could in one moment display such malice and in the next show such tenderness. Despite the air of cruelty that oozed from every pore of the eldest Borgia child's being, when Giovanni was reclaimed by his arms, he instantly ceased his bawling and held his uncle's shirt and was evidently comforted by his presence, whereas it took him ages to pacify the small child and he thought of himself as a pleasant and sensitive man, one whom babies would take to, at least more so than to someone of Cesare's nature.

Cesare then walked out of the training room with his nephew in his arms, leaving the sweating Alfonso fearing what his future held for him if he stayed with his wife. Cesare had probably heard the threat in his voice but he had certainly heard the threat he posed him. He would have to find his way out of Rome tonight if he was ever going to have another night. It wouldn't take much to convince Lucrezia that he was still furious with her, furious enough to retire elsewhere and ride out of the city in secret.


	7. Napoli

**Author's Note:**

I am afraid I have to rant a little bit at the beginning of this chapter and please blame (as I do!) Showtime for their decision to cancel "The Borgias" and make the season 3 finale the series finale. I am heartbroken – no really – I am seriously heartbroken by this decision. It ranks up there now with Fox for cancelling "Firefly" and that was a huge deal for me. No more François Arnaud, Jeremy Irons or Holliday Grainger as 'the original crime family', so I am now throwing myself into this story with every bit of disappointment and dismay that I have! Screw Showtime! (Please read and review, thanks!)

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**Chapter VII - Napoli**

He could not believe what he had been told. He simply could not understand how that chit of a Borgia had engineered such a masterful escape, also managing to take with her: her husband, her bastard, his nurse and one of the king's prize stud mares. Such a feat was inconceivable. He had to hand it to Lucrezia Borgia, the girl who showed no political mind, but seemed to possess other talents.

"That bloody bitch!" King Frederick bellowed at his advisors.

"Sire, it could not be helped, she prepared well and her accomplices are nowhere to be found. The whores have fled the city along with the Duchess and the wise woman who supplied her with the soporific substance seems to have retreated into the safety of the woods, where our forces are hunting with the dogs, but as of yet, have had no success."

"Have we had any word from Caterina Sforza?" He asked impatiently, eager to know if his ally had sent a messenger back after he had sent word to her of their hostage's escape.

"No, my king," the Count of Copertino, his father-in-law responded, "but we have received news from our spies in the Vatican that Cesare Borgia rode into the city along with his sister's party, so they have made it safely to Rome."

"Cesare Borgia? What has the Duke of Valentinois to do with this sorry situation?"

The Duke of Pamplona piped up, "His Grace had come to Naples to free his sister only to discover that she had made her own arrangements so they merely returned home."

That was interesting to the King of Naples. Cesare Borgia had learnt of his family's captivity and come to their rescue, however, his intelligence was not so fresh as to apprise him of her movements. He knew the Duke cared deeply for his sister, hell, the whole of Italy knew that fact and however, not everyone in the land had the power (and will) to use that affection against the vile Borgia family.

"Your majesty," a soldier bounded into the chamber hot and sweaty, "we have found the witch woman."

Frederick smiled malevolently as he praised the lord that something was beginning go his way, "Good. Bring her to me. I will do what is required."

He had already exposed himself to his family as a cruel and vindictive ruler. Indeed, he had already executed his brother for treason. He served no purpose and Frederick knew that he would be conspiring against him, which would only lead to being caught or his own assassination, so in the king's eye, he had acted prudently to save his own life. So what if his seditious brother had to pay the price? It was of small consequence to him to get some old hag's blood on his hands to exact punishment for something that had the power to wound his political aspirations gravely and possibly to discover more of Lucrezia's designs and intentions.

"I know nothing, my lord," the blood-drenched old woman cried with as much energy as she could muster from her throbbing core, "the blonde lady would tell me nothing, only that our payment would be anything we could pilfer from the sleeping guests."

"Dear woman, this instrument here was brought down to this chamber especially for you," Frederick told her with a chilling, friendly tone, "King Ferdinand much favoured this device, though usually, he thought it more becoming to younger women with a bit more quality to their…features, but I thought its name recommended it to this occasion. Go on, ask me what this stunning piece of technology is called."

Bianca did as she was bid, but she knew the name of the device that was pulling her apart by her seams before her persecutor informed her of it. She could feel the painfully sharp apex of the _culla di Giuda _as it penetrated her entry and screwed into her. If she had still got the wherewithal to scream, she would have echoed to the very heavens and given the Holy Spirit a headache, but she had been brought before the venomous King of Naples hours ago and he wished to draw her castigation out for as long as he could take any pleasure from the presence of a naked elderly woman, who had exchanged one prisoner of his for one of far less value, bleeding and close to death and willing death to take her.

"I shall take my leave now," the King announced after a servant in livery whispered some news into his ear, "but do take your time with her. Death shall not claim her before nightfall."

Fortunately for the once fair Bianca, the master torturer was indebted to the Borgia family and was in the pocket of Cardinal Sforza and although he had not managed to send word to Rome of Lucrezia's position as hostage, he would not allow the poor soul before him, whom he was glad had assisted the lady in her flight from Naples, so he was quite prepared to show her clemency in her time of need when it could go undetected by the king and thus, not result in his own untimely end. He released her from life swiftly, sparing her any more pain that she could not have borne and should not have to. He only prayed that King Frederick IV of Naples would not lay another hand on the sweet family of the Lady Lucrezia Borgia.

"You have failed miserably, Your Majesty," the commanding voice of The Lady of Forli censured, "you have allowed them _all_ to slip through your fingers."

"Countess, you have my humblest apologies," Frederick knew he had power over his own people, but was not so foolish as to imagine that Naples' forces could contend with those of Forli and Imola under the command of their dragon-like mistress, "the Lady Lucrezia managed to put the entire banquet hall to sleep and took the coward's way out of the city."

"The coward's way is often the best way to ensure one survives the coming onslaught, Your Majesty," Caterina laughed, forever questioning why she was destined to ever be surrounded by idiotic specimens of men, when she as a woman was ever held to their standards when she so clearly outdid them at every turn, "and you would do well to follow the woman's example, for she is back in the bosom of her brother while you are without leverage against the Borgias, whom you have now wronged greatly by holding their precious Lucrezia and Giovanni as your captives and Naples is quite without an army with which to counter their impending attack, which is imminent, my lord, trust me."

Frederick hated that Caterina Sforza could, in one breath, remind him that he was inferior to her in military prowess and strategic aptitude. He was new to his position, whereas she had held her own for years. The most respected woman in Italia could bend any king to her with promises of Borgia blood, but she had pledged something else entirely to the Kingdom of Naples on the occasion of her triumph. She had offered Naples one third of the Borgia funds in the Medici bank in Florence, which the world knew held quite the trove of Rodrigo Borgia's assets. Money that could shape the future of the country and carve names into the tablets of history and Frederick wanted – ne, needed – his name to be among those remembered in ages to come.

"So, Lady Sforza, what do you propose?"

"Well," she began, pacing around the flowers and shrubbery of the beautiful Neapolitan garden, "I have had word brought to me of your cousin's forthcoming departure from Rome. He has – how to put it – had an epiphany and seeks to return to his homeland."

The king was enraged, "No, absolutely not! He betrayed his family, his people and his country when he left with his harlot of a wife and her bastard. I will die before I see him set foot in Campania once more!"

Caterina Sforza did not suffer fools or weak-minded men who dreamt of being sovereigns but were still boys on thrones playing childish games, "My King, you must allow him back onto your soil. For our plan to work, it is vital now that he believes he is returned to your good graces."

"Very well, as you wish, my lady. What have you planned for my cousin?"

She laughed and disclosed at least a part of her plan to her 'friend', willing the day to arrive when his usefulness would expire and she could show him what he truly deserved for being a shadow of the king he should have been. Then, she would truly have a foothold in Campania, one which would make the Pope shudder until his _triregnum_ fell from his unworthy head.

Rufio was instrumental to all of it and she praised God on high for showing her the way to him so that she could rid the Earth of the Borgia family and all of their allies and restore the Holy See to its former glory and sanctity. He would be her sword, her shield and her steward in Naples.

"Your Majesty, may I present my man, Rufio," Caterina said as Rufio entered the room as stealthily as ever, "he will remain behind at my pleasure to aid you in your part in this venture. He has my full confidence and all my faith to serve you and me well, so I advise you to bestow upon him your trust. He is very…astute at what he does."

Frederick acquiesced and gestured for one of his own men to install Rufio in an apartment in the palace, but he did wonder at the young man whom Caterina was leaving in Naples to oversee his actions and report back to her. He was dressed as an Italian nobleman, however, his manner and bearing was not that of someone of good birth. It perplexed him thinking of how such a man had found his way into the good graces of the epitome of womanhood that was Caterina Sforza and what services he provided her with, for he wagered it was not for amorous activities that she maintained him.

"I will take my leave of you now, my lord," Caterina declared abruptly, rising from her seat, "and leave you in the hands of Rufio. Do not fail again, King Frederick, it would not be in your best interests to do so."

In the wake of the great lady's warning, Frederick sent a messenger after Rufio, requesting him for an audience so that he might glean something more from him concerning the bigger plans of the Lady of Forli, which her subordinate would not be able to keep from him, for he probably was not as versed in the art of deflection as his madam.

"She will not get away with this," Frederick grumbled, "not if she lives a thousand years. I will have my way in this life or the next, but the Lady Lucrezia will suffer retribution for her actions far more keenly that I will for my own. Alfonso will be a great tool against her, I am sure of it, fool that he is…"

Meanwhile, in Rome, the horse which was originally pilfered from Naples was saddled up at the back of the city and Alfonso was readying himself to take his leave from Rome and begin his sorry journey home, completely oblivious to the cloaked figure in the shadows watching his every move and fiddling with the knife at his side as he prepared to pursue the absconder until the time when he could complete his task and ensure his sister and family's safety for a while longer. He could not allow Alfonso to reach his relations if he was to achieve his own ends.


	8. Purity, Sacrifice & The Pope of Rome

**Author's Note:**

I recently holidayed in the south of France and spent a day driving through the Camargue and being blown away by the beauty of the horses which you cannot see enough of hence the inclusion of what I feel is an equally beautiful scene with Cesare. Enjoy, read and review, please!

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**Chapter VIII - Purity, Sacrifice & The Pope of Rome**

Cesare had to hand it to his brother-in-law that he made quite a nice escape for someone whose life had lacked the constant intrigue and caution that his had endured. He might have even reached his destination had it not been for Cesare's insistence that his men keep a watch over all the members of his family. Orsini's efficiency had paid off in this instance when he had reported to his lord that Alfonso had been seen talking to an usher and paying him off for something, which registered as odd behaviour for the usually transparent prince.

As Alfonso drove his horse into a clearing to allow his steed a recess, Cesare saw the perfect moment to let him know that he was not travelling alone on the road out of Rome.

"Good evening to you, Alfonso." Cesare greeted loudly, startling the poor man.

"My Lord Borgia, what an unpleasant surprise," Alfonso said, playing for time as he examined his surroundings, trying to see if – besides Cesare – he was alone, "I did not expect to see you outside the city on this fine night."

He laughed off the snide remarks, "How befitting it is that you sit astride a grey horse, Alfonso."

Alfonso was indeed straddling a handsome grey gelding, which – if the connoisseur was not mistaken – was a Camargue and a stunning specimen of the elusive and equally as expensive breed. Cesare knew that the stables of Naples would have been desolate without such a steed. His own had the same breed so it was of no consequence to him that this was the chosen mount for Alfonso's fruitless escape, but the Papal stables would indeed be fortunate to house such a beast, or maybe it would be given as reward to Orsini, either way, it would not be returning to its former Neapolitan home.

"Why is that, my lord?" Alfonso asked back, utterly befuddled by his words and completely convinced that Cesare had brought with him no companions, which both disturbed and relieved him.

"White is the colour of purity, is it not? It is also the colour of sacrifice and ironically, of His Holiness, The Pope of Rome. So it is fitting that you should die upon a beast that embodies every reason you have to die."

Alfonso had realised his doom was upon him, but he would be damned if he did not give the scoundrel a run for his blood money first, "If I am so pure, why am I to die at the hand of one so impure?"

Cesare had to hand it to him, he had accepted his fate with much grace and it heightened his respect for his brother-in-law immensely, though not enough to save him and scoffed, "You have misunderstood me. It was not your purity I was referring to. I merely intimated that you would be killed on account of purity, for in fact I speak of the purity of Giovanni and his mother. As I see it, if it had been left up to you, they would still be held in Naples, or actually, they wouldn't because I would have liberated all of you by now, but had Borgia ingenuity not existed, your family would still be held captive and that quality in a husband of my sister is deplorable. I concede that you are one of the single most sensitive men I have met, but when you marry into the Borgia family, that counts for nothing at all. Lucrezia requires a husband who would have the fortitude to aid her in her hours of need otherwise, no husband at all is preferable."

Alfonso heard his words with baited breath, unable to believe that Cesare Borgia, the greatly feared Duke of Valentinois was claiming his sister was ever pure and guffawed loudly, "Your sister, pure, my lord? You must have had one too many cups of wine. I loved your sister with all my heart, but you cannot in all honesty label her as pure, not when she has a bastard child by a stable boy no less and is probably with child again but a child not fathered by her husband once more!"

Cesare could not believe his audacity had gone so far as to persuade him that such an outburst was a good idea as he bounded off his horse and tugged Alfonso from his own, unwilling to be inferior to the man in any way at all, including height. He landed a hard punch to his jaw followed by another to his cheek and brought his knee up to wind him, taking away his ability to speak any more filth about his beloved sister, something her brother had never tolerated and knew he never would as long as he drew breath.

"You will never speak another word against my sister!" he bellowed as he shoved his adversary to the ground, "You are unwise, my lord, to antagonise me so, especially as I hold your death in my hands and you have just added some suffering to it, which is a shame as Lucrezia _begged _me to expedite your departure from this world and ensure that it was as painless as possible for you, but now that you have so besmirched her name and honour, I am not willing to be so compliant."

As he lay bleeding on the sodden grass, Alfonso saw pure fury and rage in his superior's eyes and watched petrified as he drew the blade at lowered it so the point was pressed against Alfonso's throat, "I shall not _beg_ anything of you, Cesare Borgia," he wheezed gripping his side, "I may not have your Borgia ingenuity, which we both know is another word for poisonous minds and I may not seek fights out, but I still have my Aragonese pride. Pride which will never see me submit to the likes of you and your bastard family. I am glad, at least, that I am clearing the way for you with your own sister. I wish the two of you very happy!"

Cesare knelt beside the wounded man, his sword unmoved and whispered, "You are right. Your removal from my sister's life does leave your place vacant, a place that has waited for me for years – our whole lives in fact – and one I am pleased to take in her life and in her heart. I am sorry that she was never able to truly love you in return for your affections, but you will be the _sacrifice_ that allows her to finally be with the one man who loves her with the entirety of his soul and the only one on this foul Earth able to see her truly and completely happy."

While the wind whipped the leaves of the trees surrounding the clearing, Alfonso felt the spattering of rain on his forehead and heard the sounds of their horses grazing beside the scene of his looming demise, ignorant that they were the horses of such men, knowing only that they could not resist the grass under their hooves. If he was to die by the hand of the Devil's man, then he was comforted by the knowledge that his passing was to occur in private.

"What do you intend for my body?"

The questioned was intrigued by the enquiry of the questioner, "Why do you ask?"

"I would like to know if you are planning on abandoning my corpse here, leaving it to the carrion or whoever might come upon me and might or not seek to bury me in consecrated ground or whether you will carry me to some spot in Rome where I will be recognised and thus, laid to rest in a Christian burial. Then again, perhaps you have orders from your father on that subject."

The son knew that his father had not issued any such orders, but he who had never been able to commit to the grace of God or his existence at all was moved that this dying man was concerned for his lifeless corpse, "His Holiness did not give me any such instruction, but I see no harm in revealing what will not benefit you," he calmly said, "I will be taking your body back to Rome where you will receive last rites and be placed into consecrated ground as Alfonso, Duke of Bisceglie."

Alfonso could not help but smile at his assassin as he had amiably told him that he would be recognisable after death, meaning that Cesare had no plans on mutilating him, and that he would at least be seen to have had an honourable death, "My thanks, Cesare."

As the Prince of Salerno uttered his name, Cesare drew his blade across his throat, leaving in its wake a crimson line of blood. Alfonso groaned in pain but was shocked that his next memories were not of his head colliding with the wet ground beneath him, but instead of a firm grip pulling him to his feet with his blood still escaping from his neck where he had been sliced.

"That was for my sister," Cesare whispered, "this is for you."

Rapidly, he clasped Alfonso's head between his hands and without giving the Duke time to react or realise, he snapped his neck with brutal speed. Once he had let the lifeless carcass plummet to the floor, he took a moment to imprint the sight in his mind, for never again would he have a brother-in-law's blood stain his fair hands, before hoisting the body onto his own chestnut mare. Once he was certain the body was secure enough not to be cast roughly to the ground as he journeyed back home, he pulled Alfonso's former horse over to him and stroked its neck, calming it before he raised himself onto its back.

Cesare let out a shocked shriek as he noticed that the whiteness of its mane and fur was slowly being contaminated as the blood from his hands blemished its hide and a sanguine handprint remained. As he inspected his hands, he wept. He would return home with those hands and hold Giovanni with those hands and make love to Lucrezia with those hands, the hands of a murderer.

Self-pity was abhorrent to the eldest Borgia, as it had been the favourite mood of his deceased younger brother, so wiping his red eyes and tethering the chestnut horse to the grey he began his journey back to Rome, the City of God…and laughed as that thought crossed his weary mind.


	9. For the Good of the Family

**Author's Note:**

Many apologies that this update has been a long time in the coming but I have been ill, but I have now seen the "Grand" finale of the show and was disappointed so this chapter had to be written with the love scene that I would have liked to have been in the last episode, but there are hints of that in this chapter just to tie the story back in to the show. Hope you enjoy and please do leave reviews!

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**Chapter IX - For the Good of the Family**

Cesare hesitantly entered Lucrezia's chambers, fearing her wrath now that she had been told of the death of her husband. He knew well that she gave no weight to the story that he had been too drunk to take a piss by the Tiber and had fallen down some stairs to his death, which had been instantaneous and would have caused him no real pain. The Borgia family and their associates knew the truth, however, that Alfonso d'Aragon had to be done away with because he had served his purpose, but only Cesare and Lucrezia were aware of the other, darker reason for his murder.

The sight in front of him tore his heart in two. She had Giovanni in her arms, her shaking arms. She was sobbing loudly at her spouse's death and her child cried along with his mother. Cesare had already seen Alfonso's body after it had been readied for burial and the task of sending a messenger with a missive detailing the prince's death to Naples had been left to him, but he had been informed that his dear sister had only just returned from the corpse's side.

"Lucrezia?"

She did not stir from her pitiful place on the floor. She only nodded and gazed at him with tear-soaked eyes, inviting and urging him to approach her and hold her.

"Oh, my love," Cesare whispered soothingly into her ear once he strode over to her and swept her and Giovanni up into his arms, "I am so sorry. I truly am, my love, I wish it had not been necessary."

Giovanni had begun to quieten in his uncle's presence, so Cesare took him from Lucrezia's arms and handed him off to his wet nurse who then quit the room, leaving the lovers in their own company.

"Cesare, will it ever get any better? For us? For our family? Or will we ever be stained by the blood of our enemies? I have had two husbands and both were killed because they were married to a Borgia."

"If I could I would never have blood stain your fair hands, but as it is, sis, we are Borgias and we are accustomed to the shedding of blood for the good of our family and its name."

She laughed without humour as she curled up further in his embrace, "If I never hear the words 'for the good of the family' again then I suspect our family will do much better in the future."

Cesare echoed her laughter, "It has always been the problem with our family and as long as our father sits in St. Peter's Chair I do not see that changing. Besides, things need not be as bad as they were now that you are once more unwed."

Lucrezia heard his words and though she nearly chastised him for their callousness, she knew that doing so would wound him unnecessarily and he had already endured so much suffering on account of both her marriages. The first had destroyed the innocence he had so treasured in her and the second had forced him to watch as another man made love to the woman he loved with his entire soul.

She replied with a kiss and not a chaste kiss, not a kiss of promise, but one of passion, of longing and of everything she had held back beforehand but no longer needed to. She clung to him as though he had all the air in the world within him and she was suffocating without having him close to her. She pulled him down on top of her so she could feel every inch of his body pressed into her own.

Cesare was taken aback by her sudden desire for intimacy but he had no intention of resisting her will. He clutched her beautiful golden locks and returned her kiss with equal vigour, demanding entry into her mouth, which was freely given. As he kissed her thoroughly, he became aware of her hands as they gripped his back firmly, permitting not one iota of space to come between them.

As he made a sweet journey from her puckered lips down to her collarbone, nibbling and kissing as he went, his fingers deftly unlaced her gown and tugged it from her with a seductive grin in her direction before he took one lingering, lustful look at her and pulled back.

"Where are you going?" Lucrezia asked, bewildered as her brother headed for the door.

Cesare twisted the key, locking the door and glanced back at his sister before heading back to her, "Nowhere, love, just making sure we are not disturbed in the next…hour or so."

"An hour?" Lucrezia asked in mock astonishment, "Your plans have become more ambitious since you acquired that vast army of yours. Virility suits you, Cesare."

He picked her up from the floor and deposited her on the bed, "So it seems, but wouldn't you like proof of my virility, sweet sister?"

Lucrezia was relishing this new banter between them and as he placed himself next to her in _her _bed, she gripped his cotton shirt between her teeth and tugged lightly, "A lady _always _requires proof from the man she loves, especially when he is Cesare Borgia, the Duke of Valentinois, who still has a wife of his own."

Cesare knew that her words were not intended to irritate or anger him, but he could not help but be deflated at her mention of the Duchess, still situated far away in France, "Why do you mention her?"

"Oh, Cesare," she groaned, cupping his cheek in her hand, "I did not mean to upset you, my love. I was only speaking in jest. Come here?"

Although it was a question, it needn't have been. Without hesitation, Cesare returned to her welcoming arms and kissed her wildly on the lips, telling her that she was his and his alone and though he belonged to Charlotte d'Albret by law, he was Lucrezia Borgia's in heart, in body and in soul and she never would find cause to doubt that as long as he drew breath.

Lucrezia pulled his shirt from him, leaving him naked before her and more handsome than she remembered from the last time they were together if such a thing were possible. Cesare had one scar on his abdomen that was invisible to all unless they looked closely and she pressed her soft lips to it, thankful that he only bore one, minute mark of a fight lost. Scars were not attractive to her, instead, they were a reminder that the bearer of them had lost fights and been wounded, so she was glad that her lover was a fighter of such skill that he had never been seriously injured in combat. Juan, she knew, had a body littered with scars.

Her lover found the hem of her shift and raised it so he could feel her bare thighs, a sensation that made him hard in the groin whenever he thought of them, let alone ran his fingers along them, savouring their softness. As he reached the apex of her thighs he gently grazed his fingers along her opening, causing her to moan with anticipation.

"Cesare, please, my love," she whispered with her eyes tight shut.

As his lips found hers once more and his tongue entered her mouth and danced with hers, so did his fingers tease and twirl within her. Expertly, he wound her until he could feel her go taut and clench beneath him, her moment of ecstasy imminent and as her hips bucked and she pulled him closer to her and gripped his long hair, he felt and heard her release.

She had never known such contentment in the arms of anyone other than her brother. Giovanni Sforza had never thought of anyone's pleasure other than his own, Paolo had been a gentle lover but she had never known the love of anyone before him and he had shown her true love, but he had been as inexperienced as she was, Alfonso was a pup thanks to that vow to St. Agnes and his first time had been ruined by the expectations piled on him and she had found rapture by seeking out the eyes of Cesare rather than because of her husband's adolescent ministrations. Cesare had on their first night together treated her with such reverence and adoration that she felt complete in his arms and all the love he had borne her for years but been too afraid to act upon without her prior consent. Now, they had grown accustomed to each other and were at ease being naked in each other's company, so they had nothing to fear and could find pleasure with each other as they wished.

"Your turn now," Lucrezia panted as she exposed his stiff cock and took it into her mouth.

Cesare had been painfully hard for her from the instant he had held her crying on the floor and it took him every shred of restraint he had not to cum the second he felt her tongue touch his member, but he would not show such obvious and contemptible lack of control. He knew in minutes he would become undone in her mouth and he did not wish to unless she was with him completely.

His sister shrieked as she felt herself ripped from her place on Cesare's knees, tending his erection with her mouth and was instead thrown beneath him on the bed. He swiftly penetrated her from tip to hilt and both partners nigh on screamed as she stretched to accommodate him and he revelled in her warm wetness as it sheathed him perfectly as if she was created for that purpose.

He waited while she acclimatised herself and then thrust into her with every muscle in his body. She writhed in pleasure beneath him and gripped his buttocks, encouraging him to plough into her with greater speed. She longed with all her heart to feel him within her and to be his once more and no one else's afterwards.

It did not take long for both parties to climb and climb until they both reached the blissful conclusion of their embrace in each other's arms. All of Lucrezia's other sexual encounters had passed and then the man had taken his leave of her bed. None had deigned to sleep beside her or hold her close for a time after they were spent, none beside her brother, the brother who loves her…

"I love you, Cesare and when I said those years ago that I would never love another as I love you I truly meant it."

Her words moved him and had he had the energy, he was certain he would have wept, "I know, love, and I love you too and now you shall be mine forever and no other's, but I would know if there is anything you desire at this moment, my dear?"

Lucrezia played with the sparse hairs on his chest as she considered his question, "There is one thing that I would ask of you, brother," she replied tentatively, "especially as Alfonso is so recently dead. I would ask for another child, Cesare, your child."


	10. Niccolò Machiavelli

**Chapter X - Niccolò Machiavelli**

Micheletto had always been at ease in the service of Cesare Borgia, but his role in Signor Machiavelli's household paid well but made him feel uneasy all of the time. He had known his place to the Lord Borgia, whom he considered a friend as well as an employer, but he had none of the same rapport with Machiavelli. Machiavelli was in thrall to Piero de' Medici, who was evidently a fool who relied on his counsellor heavily for opinions and actions.

"Micheletto, I have news you might appreciate considering your allegiances," Machiavelli announced as he came upon the man polishing a sword, "news of the Borgia family."

"Yes, my lord?"

"It appears that Alfonso d'Aragon, the Lady Lucrezia's husband, has had an unfortunate accident that has cost him his life."

The assassin was intrigued, as he recognised the implication in his patron's tone, "A natural accident or one of my lord's designs?"

"Isn't that just the question," he replied, "if I were a malicious sort of man, I would say that the Prince of Salerno's accident was not that, but a means to sever ties with Naples after they foolishly tried to hold the Duchess of Bisceglie hostage but I have never been a wicked man, so that conclusion would never occur to me."

"_Naturally_, my lord," Micheletto concurred, growing ever more tired of his master's slippery words and personality, recollecting the clarity and directness of Cesare's attitude and nature.

A manservant entered the stables where Micheletto and his master were conversing to escort the latter to his own master who was demanding his presence at a meeting with the Pazzi family. The Pazzi were a distinguished Tuscan family who maintained their vast wealth partly in the Medici bank (and mostly in their own), which Signor Machiavelli controlled more than Piero the Unfortunate (as all of his subordinates called him behind his back) did.

Thus, Micheletto was left in welcome solitude to meditate on the apparent news that Cesare had done away with yet another brother-in-law. As Cesare had known of Micheletto's sodomite nature, so had he been entrusted with the knowledge of Cesare's incestuous affair with the Duchess of Bisceglie, his sister. Neither man had commented nor reacted badly to the news of the other's unconventional sexual preferences, both recognising in the other a kindred spirit of sorts.

An hour later, Machiavelli sat with the Grand Maestro of Florence, Piero de' Medici discussing the more worrying news that Giacomo de' Pazzi had brought up regarding the Lady of Imola, Caterina Sforza, with whom the Pazzi clan were considering an alliance.

"We ought to send a courier to His Lordship straight away," Machiavelli advised his master, "otherwise he will be most displeased if he ever uncovers the fact that we knew of this move in the game without forewarning him."

"And Cesare Borgia is a strong and powerful ally…" Piero thought aloud.

"Indeed, signore," Machiavelli replied, "and I have just the man for the job…"

Machiavelli took his leave without another word to his master and went in search of Micheletto who would be making a return trip to his former master. He also thought it might be an idea to suggest to the Duke of Valentinois that he retain Micheletto Corella as a manservant as his loyalties were obviously still entrammelled with the Borgia family and name, besides he paid his own mercenaries who were equal to his talents and he knew that Cesare Borgia had felt the loss of Micheletto once he had abandoned him to the second sons of the Romagna and it would be a sign of goodwill and friendship from Florence to Rome.


	11. What the Future Holds

**Author's Note:**

The last chapter was short and long in the coming, so here's the next one. I hope you enjoy this one as the last chapter was to start the journey to Micheletto and Cesare's reunion, which was a must. Please read and review, it means so much to me!

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**Chapter XI - What the Future Holds**

"_I would ask for another child, Cesare, your child."_

As Cesare wandered through the Vatican not listening at all to what the Vice Chancellor was droning on about, his sister's words repeated over and over in his mind. Could he really father a child? Give her a child? The thought of their child made him smile despite all the worries and apprehensions he had about putting a child in Lucrezia's belly. Their child would be perfect. If it was a boy, he would grow into a strong man and a handsome one at that if he shared his father's looks and a girl that resembled her mother, that image took his breath away.

"My Lord Borgia," Sforza's officious voice asked, "did you hear me?"

Cesare snorted, "My apologies, Cardinal Sforza, my mind was elsewhere. What does your cousin have planned now?"

Just as Sforza was about to respond, there was a loud commotion in the courtyard as several riders pulled up before the Vatican. This was normal and commonplace in the fast environment that was the Vatican, but it was the ginger-haired, scruffy, lean man who leapt from his horse to fall through the door that caused the two men to take a step back.

"Micheletto? Micheletto! What are you doing in Rome?"

"Forgive me, my lord," Micheletto said, prostrating himself, "Signor Machiavelli sends news from Florence that will be of great interest to you."

Cesare's heart plummeted at that. His life was complicated enough for the moment without new intrigues or enemies making their moves against him and his family. He was overjoyed to see his old friend and comrade back where he belonged but as Micheletto had once told him, when there was news it was always bad news.

"What is it, Micheletto?"

"The Pazzi family, my lord," he replied immediately and apologetically, "they have thrown themselves in with Caterina Sforza. She has the entirety of their fortune behind her, as well as her own funds to keep her army in steel."

The curses that Cesare uttered could have made even the most lecherous of cardinals blush to match their skirts, but the news that the Bitch of Forli had gathered to her the second most illustrious family of Florence to her was the worst news he could have received at that moment, that moment when he was starting to feel as though he was winning the fight against his enemy, but once again, Caterina Sforza proved she was much cleverer than everyone gave her credit.

"My Lord Borgia, you may wish to lower your voice." Cardinal Sforza interrupted.

He scoffed, "You're right, Sforza, but I wish that your cousin would stop pushing pins into my side every other day."

"I cannot do anything about Caterina, my lord," Ascanio replied, "but I will go and update His Holiness concerning my cousin's latest move in the chess game."

Later, Rodrigo Borgia stormed into the barracks where he found Cesare and his manservant, whom he could swear he hadn't seen around in months, sparring. He had just been informed of the new situation with the Great Arachnid of Forli and he was desperate to hear what new plan his eldest son had formulated to stick a wedge in her door.

"Cesare, I apologise for interrupting your play date with your boyfriend here," he said, earning a scowl from both men holding blades, "but we need to be dealing with Caterina Sforza unless your master plan involves duelling her."

"Father, I have a plan for her and it will work."

"Why don't you let the rest of us know then? Why are you so hell bent on keeping your plans from us? We are the Pope of Rome! You, _our _son, need to tell us what you have planned for our enemy!"

"I keep my plans to myself because I trust myself with them but I trust nobody else with our family's safety and ultimately that is what I fight for: for you, for mama, for Giovanni, for Lucrezia! To insure their safety I have to defeat Caterina Sforza and I will do _anything_ to keep the family safe and as long as we win, which I might add, Holy Father, we mostly do, I do not see why I need to waste time divulging to you each step in my rather lengthy plans so that by the time we have talked, Forli is armed to the teeth and I no longer can have the quick victory we all desire and need. Are you now satisfied, Holy Father, or must I carry on losing precious time explaining my actions to you?"

Rodrigo did not know what to say to his son, who had grown so well into his boots that he no longer required a father's counsel and input. When Cesare had routed the French army under the previous king, Rodrigo had begun to feel his son slipping away from him but since the new French sovereign had granted him both consort and army, the oldest Borgia child had thrown himself from the nest and landed on his feet at a gallop. When they had made their play for the papal crown and St. Peter's, Cesare had been under his father's wing, but now, Rodrigo saw that their roles had been reversed and truthfully, had been for some time, but he had been too blind to see it. Cesare fought for Cesare Borgia and no longer for Alexander Sextus.

"Very well, my son," he finally said with a strange hitch in his usually authoritative voice, "you have our express permission to act on our behalf and use our army for your offensive against Forli. Since you no longer are in need of our help, we shall attend to clerical matters while you return to your duties at the head of two armies now, _Your Grace_."

With his piece said, the Pope exited the dusty room and returned to his seat, knowing that he was leaving in his wake a version of his son who could wreak havoc on all of Italy and he would if it was what he had to do to protect his precious sister. Rodrigo was not oblivious to the love the siblings shared, but he did wonder if Lucrezia was the only member of their family who truly ruled Cesare, for he was certain in his mind that he never had any such hold over his eldest.

"I hope you know what you are doing, my lord." Micheletto cautioned his renewed master.

Cesare gave him a confident grin, "Believe me, Micheletto, I know precisely what I am doing and for the first time in my life, I am sure that releasing myself from the control of my father is the best thing for this family, this papacy and this Italy of ours."

"Very well, Cesare Borgia. I hope the future is ready for your plans and armies."

He guffawed as they discarded their swords and walked out of the barracks together and headed for Cesare's chambers in the Vatican, "Giving me those armies is the last thing my father will ever hand over to me, for now, if Cesare Borgia, His Grace the Duke of Valentinois, desires something, he earns it himself and fights for it. Nothing will ever threaten me or my family…or you ever again. We shall be safe in Italy once the Sforza threat is nullified."

Micheletto saw clearly the glare of rage and revenge in the Duke's eyes, a look he had sported since the attempted assassination of his family during the Pope's indisposition, but now, it had new power and strength and intent. He had the power to rage through Italy and force lords and ladies especially to bow to his will with the great horde he now had at his command. Nothing would stand in his way now and for the first time since his arrival, Micheletto was thankful that Signor Machiavelli had had the foresight to send him from Florence and back to Cesare's side, for in the coming weeks, it was the safest place in all Italy to be.


	12. Arachne

**Author's Note:**

It flabbergasts me to see how many reviews and bits of positive feedback I've had for this story so thank you so much for letting me know in various ways that you like it. I also have no idea where this story is really going but I know that I am going to keep writing it and enjoying where Lucrezia and Cesare end up, so keep reading so you can see too! PS. I am pretty sure that in the series, Rodrigo calls her "the Arachnid" but the Classics student in me wants it to be "Arachne" because it's a bit cooler and I think there are similarities between Caterina and Lucrezia that ought to be highlighted…just don't bite my head off!

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**Chapter XII - Arachne**

Caterina Sforza leaned back in her chair, gazing at the high ceiling of her great hall in the castle at Forli, utterly unsatisfied with how her campaign against the Spanish Pope was progressing. Rufio was still a profitable commodity but as for the rest of her plays in the game, they were a waste of time, effort and money. She was starting to run out of ideas and people to exploit now that Alfonso d'Aragon was no more, the second sons of the Romagna had defected to the Borgia cause, Lucrezia Borgia had escaped Naples and she held in her hand a report from Rufio that King Frederick was being uncooperative and would probably not be worth cultivating for their cause anymore. The last hand she held was the potential of the Pazzi family of Florence.

When she had played host to Cesare Borgia she had seen how he manipulated and played the game with much more alacrity than his brother did, but she still managed to confound him and his morally bankrupt father. Now, she realised she had only seen a miniscule amount of his adept mind and he was a much more worthy adversary than she originally thought. Though she still had a good chance of thwarting the Borgias, the chances were dwindling and she was losing the fight bit by bit.

"The contingent from the Pazzi family are here, my lady," an usher announced, "shall I send them in?"

With a curt gesture, she gave him permission to bring her newest allies before her and propose their offers and petition for their future rewards. It would all be the same as what the others had demanded but she had to be courteous and hear them out, but if after this day she had to promise the Borgia lands and estates to another treacherous or unworthy ally, then she would concede her cause.

"I am told you bring me joyous news from Florence?"

The elder of the two men in herald's clothes replied, "Yes, milady, Giacomo de' Pazzi sends his greetings and warm wishes. He also entrusted us with this letter to be seen only by your eyes, ma'am."

Caterina had to hand it to him, he knew his place in all this commotion and political conniving, for many messengers she had encountered were dour and surly creatures who seemed to never be truly aware to whom they were passing the documents entrusted to them or the messages they relayed by mouth.

Once she unrolled the sheet, she could do naught but laugh out loud, which she rarely did unless in the face of a Borgia, for it really was most unladylike and unseemly, but the words of the Pazzi were to her as though many Christmases had come at once. Rodrigo Borgia may have ensnared Piero de' Medici and his stooge, Niccolò Machiavelli and had their vast bank to support him, but now Caterina Sforza had the wealth of the Pazzi family, which almost equalled the Medici fortune, behind her. The difference between both Florentine families was slight and whatever could be given her to fund her crusade against the Borgia Pope and his offspring she would be grateful for.

"Please convey my sincere gratitude to your master and assure him that he shall – of course – receive his due regarding his preference of the Borgia estates and he has our backing when we are victorious to usurp the power of the Medici family. We do not forget our friends here in Forli. This is not Rome."

"Indeed, your ladyship," the younger responded with a voice that reminded her of her son, Benito's, "we shall take our leave now."

"You must stay the night. You must be weary from your travels and hungry too. Go to the kitchens, they will feed you a hearty meal for your troubles."

As the men were leaving her presence, she beckoned subtly for the younger to stay a moment longer and he was abandoned by his companion without ado to the Lady of Forli and Imola. Caterina only smiled at him and invited him to sit beside her, in the same seat Cesare Borgia had occupied during his visit to her stronghold.

"What is your name, boy?"

"Lodovico, Countess," he stuttered, his nerves warning him of the lady's amiable advances.

"Well, Lodovico," she said with a seductive smile, leaning across to hold his shuddering hand in her own, "you must tell me about yourself. Where are you from? How old are you? Do you have any family? How did you come to serve Giacomo de' Pazzi?"

"I am seventeen, milady, though I know I look young for my age," Caterina found his blush simply beautiful, "and I was born in Florence in the household of my lord's father. My mother is dead now but she was a chambermaid in the palazzo and she got my place for me. My companion who just left is my mother's younger brother, Giovanni, and he has cared for me ever since she passed away when I was eight years old. He is the only one left of my kin."

Hearing the way this young lad described his life so eloquently for one so young and yet so low of birth (though it had occurred to her that in the service of Ippolito de' Pazzi, the mother could well have borne his bastard) caused the resolute, childless lady's heart to soften towards this Adonis who was so like her boy, whom Cesare Borgia had snatched from her bosom.

"You are well-mannered, young man, you quite remind me of someone I knew once," Caterina said eerily as if lost in a pleasant dream.

"Who?"

She laughed at that. There was the evidence of his upbringing and station, but it was endearing to her, "You are forward, Lodovico, but I shall forgive you. You are very much like my son, Benito, who is dead now, but had he lived beyond sixteen years, he would have liked you, I am sure of it."

"I am honoured your ladyship thinks so."

"Tell me, do you know any songs? For my boy used to sing all day long. He was not much of a soldier, but he had the voice of a cherub."

After a minute's consideration, Lodovico shyly admitted to knowing one song he could sing for the lady who had flattered him and taken an odd interest in him that might please her. He rose from his place and began as his enraptured audience closed her eyes and floated in the heaven his tuneful, boyish voice created in her hall just for her.

"You are talented. You ought to be a musician not a common messenger, my lad. Giacomo misuses you terribly. Tell me one more thing," she began, staring intently at her company, "have you ever been in love, Lodovico?"

"I cannot say that I have, My Lady Sforza."

With a smile that reached the very pupils of her eyes, Caterina stood from her chair and knelt before the boy, whose eyes widened in confusion. She placed her hands deliberately on his lean legs and looked him in the eyes.

"You are sitting in the chair that bore the last man to come to my bed," she said, becoming gleeful as she witnessed how she confounded and beguiled him, "and do you know who that was?"

He shook his head, unsure if he really was supposed to be aware of what man this great lady whose fingers were entrancing him through their stroking of his thighs, had brought to her bed or if she was merely asking in jest to tease and taunt him, for young as he was, as he felt himself harden, he wished he could bed the Bitch of Forli who had shown him nothing but kindness just to tell all those who called her that name that they did not know her. Just because he had never been in love did not mean that he had never fucked a whore against an alley wall…he was Italian after all; she truly couldn't have thought he was a virgin.

"It was my greatest enemy's son, Cesare Borgia. He was quite an animal in the boudoir and he is an animal on the battlefield and in his mind he is as wily as a fox. He was quite the specimen to have betwixt my thighs," she said as she pushed herself against him more, "but I have another desire in me now, _caro _Lodovico, and I shall get what I want tonight. I would have you make love to me. Do not fuck me, do not prance about and tease me, but show me how someone who has not yet known love would _make love_ to a beautiful woman."

Lodovico could not believe that this noblewoman was inviting him to her bedchamber. He was nothing but a lowly messenger in the house of the second greatest family in Florence and she was the Countess of Forli, who was going to bring the Borgia Pope to his knees before her. She had already had Cesare Borgia but the way she told it, it sounded as though the affair had been quick and physical, but if he could truly make love to this woman, she had it in her power to do much, if not all for him.

He felt brave in the wake of her words and he drew her up higher so that he could kiss her chastely on the mouth and suck longingly at her smooth lips.

An hour later, they both were covered in sweaty sheets and naked from their lovemaking and it had been as tender as Caterina had hoped it would be. He was certainly the one to fulfil her plan and he was quite the lover, though it was plain to her that he had been accustomed to fucking his partners and achieving his own pleasure with no regard for theirs, but she was immensely satisfied with his ministrations and if he rose to the task as he had tonight for the next week or so, then she would surely have exactly what she wanted from him.

"Are you content, My Lady Sforza?" Lodovico asked breathlessly.

She nodded. If she could not speak with all her authority, then she simply would not utter a word to this pageboy who – truth be told – had found his place in her heart but was still beneath her regardless of his recent performances."

As he stood to cleanse himself, he heard Caterina sit up, pulling the sheets with her to ask, "Do you know who Arachne is, Lodovico?"

It was cruel of her to wave his lack of education and commonness in his face after sex but he shook his head, though he understood the name to be Greek and thus, she was probably some heroine in a Greek myth or something similar.

"Well, I'll ask you this then," she said unashamed, "do you know what the Pope and his son call me when they believe they are beyond my spies?"

This game was wearisome to Lodovico, for yet again, he could only shake his head in response, for he knew that her nickname in the Vatican was the Bitch of Forli, but everyone knew that, so it could not be what she was referring to now.

"Well, the Pope in all his holiness and sanctity calls me the Arachne of Forli. Ovid, the Latin poet wrote of her bravery in defying the goddess, Pallas Minerva, who was the goddess of weaving. Arachne, a mortal princess, challenged the goddess to a weaving contest and instead of choosing the triumphs and benevolences of the divine beings of Olympus, she chose to show the goddess in her own art all the infidelities, the licentiousness and transgressions of the gods."

The listener was just about shrewd enough to understand where his great lady was going with her story. He saw that Caterina was glad she was the Pope of Rome's Arachne, for then he was the great goddess of weaving to her and she would display for the entire world to see and scorn his betrayals to the Holy See and Italy. He wanted, however, to learn of the story's end…

Caterina continued her tale, "Arachne's tapestry when it was complete was so beautiful and incomparable to Minerva's portrayal of her single offering to Athens, her city, that the goddess was enraged and cursed the princess for humiliating her and outshining her at her own craft to spend the rest of her days as a spider weaving webs that no human would ever appreciate her work again."

"Why do you wish to be compared with this princess then, Lady Caterina," he asked, "for it seems that she was ultimately defeated by her rival?"

She smiled, quietly confident, "Indeed she was, but I have learnt my lesson from her. She challenged the goddess alone, whereas I have friends and those who would challenge again should I fall, but fall I will not."


	13. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

I got to delve a bit further into Borgia history for this chapter, so that was fun! Vannozza has not really had a voice in this story yet, so this is a Rodrigo/Vannozza chapter because I felt that I had neglected them. I got the Spanish translations from Google Translate, so if they are wrong or could be better, do let me know in reviews if you understand the language, just felt it was more heartfelt to have the words in his mother tongue. Happy reading and reviewing (hopefully!).

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**Chapter XIII - The Beginning**

"_There is a woman at the beginning of all great things."  
~ Alphonse de Lamartine_

Rodrigo stormed into his former mistress' villa full of fury and rage, "Vannozza, we do not understand our oldest child! He is determined to undermine us and leave us in ignorance of his plans!"

Vannozza had been expecting a visit to complain about the drawbacks of being father to one such as Cesare Borgia, for the offending son had forewarned her that his father was in a mood with him and would most likely pay her a visit. Cesare had ever been a dark sort of boy who grew into a darker man, but there was still much light within him that his mother was only too aware of and would try to remind his manic father of too.

"I have told you before, Rodrigo," she reminded as gently as she could, "your son is much like you and he will tell you what he believes you need to know when he thinks you need to know it. There is no use in constantly trying to force his hand, just as you know no one can sway you when your mind has latched onto something. You must be content and merely have faith in our son. He will not fail you, he never has."

Rodrigo remembered then that nobody had informed the womenfolk of the Borgia family just who had flung Juan into the River Tiber and dug a knife into his side, leaving him to drown in the piss and muck of the water that coursed through the Holy City. Maybe that time was now and then she would comprehend why he fretted so over his errant son's future intentions for the Papal Army and the country and that it was not only due to a lack of faith in his most faithful son.

"He killed Juan, my love," Rodrigo murmured, holding Vannozza by the shoulders to steady her, "it was our son, Cesare who killed his brother."

"No!" She cried, tears already flowing down her cheeks, for she always knew it was possible but had never dreamt it probable.

"He confessed it to me the night I was poisoned, my dear." Rodrigo said, clutching her sobbing body close to his.

"Did he at least tell you why he did it?"

"He claimed it was for the honour of Rome and the family, but I suspect there was more to it than that, but why would he tell me what it is? I'm only his father and the Pope of Rome!"

"I don't know why you're bellowing at me," Vannozza whispered, observing as she played with her rings, "I didn't kill our child."

The remorse for his violent tone overwhelmed him as her injured and heartbroken, quiet voice drowned him out with its deathly sorrow. If she had yelled back at him she could not have affected him as much as she did in her retreating voice and failing strength.

"What has this Vatican of ours done to that which we hold dearest…our family?" She asked, not really requiring a response.

When she said "Vatican", the father of her brood knew that what she meant to say was "Pope". He knew and she knew that his ambition and drive had forced their family into open warfare with each other and most of all with him. He had sent Gioffre, his one innocent child, away from Rome, Juan was dead by his own brother's hand, Lucrezia hated him for her marriages and for ignoring Cesare's good qualities and Cesare himself felt he had outdone his father and was thus pushing himself further and further from his father's hand above him.

"Cesare is the head of this family, Rodrigo. He has been for a while now. I know in my heart, a mother's heart why he got rid of Juan. As I said, there were many times I wished he had never been born. I know my son. He would not have done it for as selfish a reason as honour; he is much wiser than that. He will have done it for the only thing he holds higher than his family."

Rodrigo was astounded by her words of clarity, which contrasted with her appearance of being at sea and her world crumbling around her, "Pray, do tell what that is."

"Love," she said simply as if she spoke God's honest truth, "the love that is shared between a man and a woman, but mark my words, he did not do it for that French bride of his."

No Borgia other than the groom had met Charlotte d'Albret, but all knew that it was a marriage of convenience and politics that had taken her from the court of the rejected French queen and had seen him finally at the head of a great French host.

"You think he has a lover, a mistress, then, Vannozza?" Rodrigo asked, suspicious of his son, whose mother believed he would forsake a brother's love for that of a fickle woman.

"I think so, my love. He is, after all, his father's son," she said, a knowing look in her eyes, "in every way."

"Yes, we know," he retorted, "for you keep reminding us!"

"I shall try to find out who it is that has captured our son's heart, but you must let him make his own way now, Rodrigo. You are the Head of the Church, the Pope of Rome, but Cesare – in name and manner – is the head of the Borgia family here and it does not appear good for him to always seem to be doing your bidding or answering to you."

He huffed, "Yes, yes, Vannozza, we know. Try to discover what wench has his heart in a vice. We are glad we no longer have to hide this truth from you, it was such a heavy burden on our already weary soul."

She smiled, glad that she still gave him some relief as she used to, "Hiding things from me has never been in your best interest, my love, and it never will be, so next time it crosses your mind to conceal something that I ought to know from me, think again."

With a chaste kiss to her forehead, he whispered, "As always, you are right, _mi zorra_."

She laughed heartily, "It has been a lifetime since you called me that, _cappretino_. I fear my days of being your vixen are long past."

"You do not know your own beauty," he murmured seductively as he pressed her against a wall, his hardness against her waist, "and you never had, but I shall remind you of it, for that is my one, true purpose in life."

Vannozza was well aware that he spoke as a beau now, not as the ambitious son of a minor nobleman from Valencia who had assumed the Papal tiara and so the words that sprang from his lips which were travelling the length of her slender neck were false, however, they were enough to stay her hand that was itching to halt his tender ministrations.

Once they became undone, Vannozza smoothed down her skirts and righted her coiffure, which had become unkempt as she was grinded against the wall, and breathlessly told her partner that she would have to inform their daughter how her brother died truly, for now that she herself knew the truth of it, it was unjust to hide the fact from Lucrezia.

"Do as you please, Vannozza. I did not want her to ever be grieved by the circumstances of Juan's death, but you and I both know that she was not fond of him, so she may as well be told."

Something in those words unsettled _la madre_ but she could not quite put her finger on it. She recalled Lucrezia's manner when she had been presented with Juan's lifeless, grimy carcass and that was not a surprise for her, the fact that her daughter resented Juan for killing Paolo and his attempt to pass off his crime as suicide, but the way in which Cesare and Lucrezia had been dismissed from the sight of their father and how they left together as if they shared a wordless secret disturbed her more now than it had then, for those two had always hated separation.

"You must leave now," she ordered abruptly, but with a soft, eloquent smile, "you have been absent from your precious Vatican for too long already, they will be missing you, your cardinals. I will do what needs to be done with Lucrezia. I will invite her…and perhaps Cesare too, for supper tonight and will tell her then."

"Very well, Vannozza, my love, _mi amor_, _mi tesoro,_" he bade her farewell, kissing her "I must away but I will come again soon and you must visit us more often. We miss you sorely."

She smiled, knowing these words of parting were honest and replied, "We cannot have that, can we? A Pope that pines for his lover all day long, think of the scandal! I promise I'll come soon."

With only a smile that communicated more than his words ever could, he left her side and did as she bid, walking back to the Vatican where he was instantly ambushed by cardinals and chamberlains wishing for audiences and papers to be signed. He wished sometimes, not too often, but often enough, that he could just be Roderic Llançol i de Borja, the man who loved Vannozza Cattaneo with every drop of his hot Spanish blood. He had taken many mistresses, but Vannozza was his true love and only woman he wanted to be with him forever.


	14. A Brother's Blood

**Author's Note:**

This chapter is dedicated to avid reader LouiseFrene, good luck to you in your upcoming exams! I have been über-inspired recently so here's to the third chapter in a day! The inspiration is mostly because I am putting off moving out of my 2nd year flat at university, but c'est la vie. Hope you enjoy it and as ever, please leave me some reviews!

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**Chapter XIV - A Brother's Blood**

"What do you think of this invitation to dinner then, my love?"

Cesare looked up from the desk at which he sat penning orders for his armies, "The one from mother for tonight? Nothing, sis, why?"

"I think it is odd. I cannot think why she would invite the both of us for dinner out of the blue. She even writes that she expects us _both_ to stay at the villa tonight and return here in the morning."

Upon learning that, Cesare had to agree with his little sister that was queer. It was quite usual for their mother to extend the invitation to Lucrezia to stay the night after a meal there, but he had to admit that something must be afoot for her to include him in the offer of a bed for the night.

"We must ready ourselves then," he winked at her playfully, "for whatever our mother has in store for us."

When all three of them were seated together at Vannozza's table, the two siblings sipping on their goblets of fine Spanish wine nervously and the mother trying to find the right words, a pageboy entered saying that Micheletto was standing outside with a message for Cesare, so he excused himself to see what was so urgent.

"I am glad he is gone, my dear," Vannozza began, "it will make telling you this much easier for me."

"What is it, mother?"

With a sigh, she simply spat it out, "Cesare is the one who killed Juan."

Lucrezia was surprised, surprised he hadn't confessed it to her himself, but she was not sorry that the brother who had draped her infant son over a balcony with the intent to drop him to his death was dead. It did not matter to her who had wielded the blade or pushed him into the river, all she knew was that she was going to thank the one who did properly later that night when he could sneak into her room.

"Oh," she replied, no emotion showing on her pretty face, "well then, that's that, one must suppose. Now we know who did it, this charade of an investigation can stop and we can all just forget about it and move on to more pleasant things."

"Lucrezia!"

She scoffed, "I am not going to pretend that I am sorry he's dead, mother. I have already listed the things he did to me and there is another that no one except me knows, so I am still glad he is dead. As far as I see it, mother, Cesare has done us all a favour?"

"By doing what?" Cesare inquired as he walked back into the room.

When silence was his answer and the look of shame and sorrow on his mother's face caught his eye, he asked, "What have I done, mother?"

"I know you killed your brother." She said with her voice laced with blame and anger.

"I am not sorry I killed him. I am sorry that you suffer through his death, but I had good reasons for what I did," he glanced at his lover, trying to gauge her reaction, "and Lucrezia, now you know, are you angry with me?"

She merely shook her head and reassured him with a smile.

The food came and went. The wine was drank and poured anew. Vannozza and her children spoke not one more word throughout the meal until Lucrezia begged her leave, feigning fatigue, and left the mother and her son to their bickering or awkward silence, whichever way it went.

"I think I will retire too, then." Vannozza announced after a minute or two of deathly silent.

"I will walk you to your room." He responded, giving her no opportunity to protest.

Cesare did not go to the chamber prepared for him at all that night. He knew he needed to go and speak to Lucrezia, for she had been too quiet at dinner and he wanted to give her the time she needed to ask him about the incident in private. Besides, their mother's rooms were across the house from their own and she did not wish to even speak to Cesare at the moment so she would not be coming for conference in his bedchamber.

He was granted access after a short and quiet knock as Lucrezia opened the door for him clad only in a pearly shift that left nothing to the imagination. He wasted no time in letting her know just how beautiful she was in that moment and every moment before that by gripping her to him as he moved them both into the shelter of her bedchamber and making sure the door closed softly behind them.

"I am ready for the taking, brother," she murmured into his ear as she, in turn, pulled him back with her onto her soft, inviting bed, her legs spreading for him, "your seed will surely bear fruit."

In that moment when she did not bring up Juan's death or hesitate for one second to ask him to give her another child, _his _child, Cesare knew that there would never be a love like theirs in all of time. He knelt between her fair, slender legs and did his duty to his soul and to her heart.

As the lay beside each other, his hands curling through her hair, twisting and winding, her fingers lightly stroking his chest, she asked him, "What moved you to kill our brother?"

He looked stunned and scared back at her. He thought she did not hold it against him, "Wha-"

"Peace, brother," she soothed, stroking his cheek, "I am not angry. I just know that you resented him for a long time, so it intrigues me what could have forced your hand to fratricide, when you stayed it for nearly all your adult life."

"I saw him." He grunted, unable to look her in her green eyes.

She scoffed, "Cesare, we've all seen Juan in bed, the fool was barely not abed with some harlot or someone else's wife."

He rose from her bed emitting a groan, for she was making his admission so trying, "Lucrezia, I saw him the night of Giovanni's baptism…with Giovanni."

She sat bolt upright and stared at his bare back, unable to understand how he had witnessed that nearly awful episode of Juan's long series of misdemeanours without her knowing it. The covers fell from her and they were both naked in the same room, truly, as Cesare laid before her the entire truth of that night and his own personal reasons for sending Juan to his watery grave.

"That means you did it for me? It is my fault Juan is dead." She had constantly claimed that his death had no effect on her, but that had been when she felt blameless in it, but now she had cause to believe she was the most culpable for her father's grief and the deed her sweet brother had committed to preserve the life of her child.

Cesare felt soft flesh press against his back and the length of his legs and lithe arms wrap around his middle. It was when a kiss on his shoulder blade, chaste as the Virgin Mary, sent blood surging to his groin that he turned his head to look upon his love whose cheeks were damp with salty tears.

"My love, I'm so sorry," he begged, wiping her tears as they were made, "please forgive me for hiding the truth from you, but it was not your fault, not any of it. It is Juan's fault he is dead. He lied to our father and the city about what happened at Forli, he caught a disease that drove him to an opium den and he brought too much shame upon this family to be allowed to live and most importantly, he posed a great threat – no, the greatest threat – to your child, my godson and nephew, whose life I hold so dear. That sin and treachery I could not forgive. We are Borgias after all and we do not forgive."

He flinched as he remembered the last time he spoke those daunting words. He was on the Ponte Sisto glowering at his sot of a brother as he knifed him and flung him over the side into the tides of the Tiber.

Lucrezia could think of no words apt enough to thank Cesare for taking such a drastic step in order to secure her child's safety so she passionately kissed him and let her lips thank him over and over with something more powerful and eloquent than plain words.

Cesare willingly returned to the bed with her to forget all the sins his hands had committed and instead put his hands to better work. He made her writhe and churn and silently scream his name with those hands. Hands that were wet once more, but with a moisture sweet as honeysuckle, not stained with the darkness of a brother's blood.

When he returned to his own chamber having tried many times more to get his sister with child, he fell asleep content in the knowledge that a child would arrive as sure as Caterina Sforza would lose Forli castle by the end of the year and neither he nor Lucrezia were to blame for their unfortunate brother's demise.


	15. News

**Author's Note: **

I wrote three quarters of this chapter with a colossal hangover, hence its brevity, but I am not sure if this improved or diminished my writing, so would appreciate feedback on that, please.

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**Chapter XV - News**

_Three months later…_

Cesare sat in his sister's bedchamber as he had grown accustomed to do over the past few months pondering the Sforza problem as was his habit too. Ever since word had come that she had thrown herself in with the Pazzi family, the grapevines leading to his ear had become curiously silent and he knew of no new plan or strategy of hers. It was as if she had crawled back into whatever hole she had sprung from and died, but the shrewd mind of Cesare Borgia knew it would be his greatest error if he mistook this inertia for Caterina's surrender. It had crossed his mind that she was simply biding her time, waiting…

Another woman sat watching her pensive brother, also waiting. Lucrezia Borgia waited for more signs that she was with child once more. She suspected that she was indeed pregnant when her courses had not come, but she wanted to wait awhile before she confessed her thoughts and hopes to her lover, who had been preoccupied of late, forever worrying over the Bitch of Forli and what she was plotting leagues away from Rome.

"Father came to see me this morning."

He looked up, startled by her conversation, "Indeed, and what did the Holy Father want with you? I presume it was not merely a social visit…"

She shook her head curtly, vexed that he seemed to have forgotten he was not alone in _her _room, "He wished to inform me that he and mother have begun to invite suitors to Rome," she eyed him closely, "to compete for my hand in marriage again."

Rodrigo had decided that the suitable time for Lucrezia to mourn – or, to be seen to mourn – her second husband had elapsed and the Borgia family would benefit from a new alliance, possibly with one of the families of the Roman gentility. It was true that Cesare had succeeded in gathering to him the second sons and illegitimate offspring of those families, but in the months since the news of the Tigress of Forli's last move in the game, his bastard lieutenants had begun to conspire privately against him. They had done nothing openly, but it had not escaped his attention that with the danger of Caterina Sforza postponed, they had no reason to remain loyal to him, other than to avoid facing his wrath. So, creating blood ties with a family of the Romagna would help keep them all true to the Borgia cause.

"I will never, never again, my love," Cesare declared, cradling his sister's head under his chin snugly, "see you wed to another. You are mine. You will be forever mine and no one on this Earth will ever take you from me."

"I hoped you would say that," she whispered, "and have a plan too?"

"Give me a moment, sis, but be assured, I will find a way to end this."

That is how Micheletto came upon them as he walked unannounced into Lucrezia's chambers as he was wont to do whenever Cesare was there and he had important news to convey. His lord had warned him about doing so at night, but intimated that if he was with Lucrezia during the day and the need arose, his henchman was free to disturb them without ceremony.

"Forgive me, my lord," he said to Cesare, before looking fleetingly at Lucrezia, "my lady, but word has just come from Forli."

Cesare swiftly left his lover's side, "And?"

"The news is that the bitch has a pup in her belly."

To the surprise of both men, it was Lucrezia who cursed at the news of Caterina's pregnancy. It was a grave issue for them, for it determined whether her campaign would become fiercer or less offensive, but neither could surmise why it would be of such consequence to Lucrezia to send her into such a passionate rage, as she was swearing with quite some vigour and vulgarity. Indeed, Cesare was appalled that she should even know the words with which she was attacking their ears.

"Sister, calm yourself," Cesare ordered, trying to avoid her flailing arms, "for why should it bother you if the Bitch of Forli is with child?"

Lucrezia thought she ought to have waited but in the light of the news, all she wanted was for the father of her unborn child to know of its existence, "because so am I, Cesare."

Micheletto bowed out of the room and left the siblings alone with the new revelation that a Borgia baby would soon be gracing the world with its presence.

"You are with child? You are certain?"

"I have not had my courses for the past months and my breasts are tender. I am sure, my love. Are you not pleased?" She asked the wan-faced man before her.

"Pleased?" He asked stunned, "I…I do not know what to say, Lucrezia, but I am thrilled. More to the point, I do not yet know what we are going to do when father finds out you're with child again one that is not fathered by a husband once more."

Cesare had her at "thrilled" and she threw her arms round him, choosing not to fret about what their family would say and think when they were told of her pregnancy at that moment, just relishing the feel of being safe in Cesare's arms and the knowledge that she was carrying their child in her belly and would give birth to a boy with her sandy hair and Cesare's olive green eyes or a girl with his beautiful curly hair and her milky skin.


	16. News Spreads

**Author's Note: **

Glad so many readers are rooting for Lucrezia and Cesare's impending arrival and thank you for giving me some ideas, as this story has no real plan, I'm just going where I wish to, though I have some scenarios/scenes that I am heading to! Also, I hope you like the "book cover" I designed, as I have not done one for my other stories and thought I'd try it out for this one, seeing as it's the most popular one I have written as of yet. I have used some extensive historical background of the Italian Wars in this chapter and I was not very thorough, it is only a means to my own end, so please do not judge too harshly if I am in error, but please do point it out to me so I can learn.

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**Chapter XVI - News Spreads**

"I loathe that family!" Caterina screeched from her solar.

Rufio was approaching her presence when he heard her exclamation and rushed in without waiting for invitation or announcement, "What is wrong, my lady?"

"Word has just reached me that Lucrezia, that bitch of a daughter of _His Holiness_," she spat out the title with all the venom she stored in her viperish tongue, "is once more with child!"

He pondered that unexpected and reasonably coincidental – in fact, if Rufio was not so mindful that the Lady Sforza was in a delicate condition and that he had pledged his allegiance to her, he might have sniggered at how Lady Lucrezia had inadvertently stymied his own lady's plans – news, "What do you plan to do about it, my lady?"

"Nothing," Lodovico proclaimed as he sidled into the room, "Lady Caterina must rest before she enters her confinement."

Rufio and Caterina shared an irritated glance which went unnoticed by the newcomer. Lodovico had become a sort of fixture in Forli since its lady had unwisely – it now appeared – taken him into her bed and chosen him to sire her unborn child. Since that fateful day, both Caterina and her manservant had wished she had opted for a worthier candidate, not merely one who bore a resemblance to her deceased son, Benito. He had become a cumbersome presence about the castle, forever fretting over his mistress and insisting that she take to her bed and leave matters in his hands. Lady Sforza was very close to expelling him from the castle never to return, but although she never gave much consideration to the rights and wishes of men, she did not wish to deprive this one of seeing his firstborn at its birth however, he had been claiming he had the right to give the child its name and that she most certainly was not going to sanction.

"Dearest, I am well enough," she declared with veritable fire in her eyes, "do please leave Rufio and myself to our business and see that a rider can be despatched to Rome within the hour with a reply to one of my people there. I have something that needs doing in the Holy City."

With a curt nod, for he knew that he was being dismissed, Lodovico parted and went in search of a steward to instruct one of the pageboys to ready a horse for the lengthy ride to Rome. He had managed to keep his place in the castle by the side of the mother of his child, yet it was becoming more difficult to find cause for his presence there. He could see she was chomping at the bit to send him packing but resisted, not wishing to give him cause to publicise just how their bastard child came into existence and exactly how common its paternal parentage was. He would be damned, though, if he didn't receive at least some of the Forli estate, or maybe some land near Imola, if she wished to truly be rid of him, for the trouble of putting a cub in the Tigress of Forli.

"Rufio, we must discover whom Lucrezia Borgia took into her bed, for it would not have been her second husband. I have it on good authority that he had her only twice in their brief marriage and only one of those instances was in Rome and that was before they both departed for Naples. The second was in Naples but too early for her to be carrying his child. If we can learn the identity of the babe's father," she explained carefully, "we can either lean on him to join us, for he will never see his child, the grandchild of the Pope of Rome, or we can expose them both as adulterers, or better yet, it might be possible to accuse them with evidence of worse crimes."

The assassin was intrigued, "Crimes such as what?"

Caterina only tapped her nose in response with a sly grin curling up her lips, unwilling to reveal all the branches of her plan to her servant, loyal though he was. She had trusted before and it had brought her nothing but grief and especially now that she was with child again, a child that was important in her battles against the Borgias, she was going to take care to exercise more caution when choosing who to trust and just how much…

She began to write feverishly as if her pen commanded the life and death of kings, but instead, she knew her instructions to her spies and servants in Rome had the power to determine the life and death of one more feared and more important: the Pope. She charged her faithful men to tail the Lady Lucrezia, to follow her wherever she went and to take note of everyone she conversed with and wrote letters to, omitting no detail, no matter how minute it seemed, for these Borgia snakes were careful of their friends and family, it was the one trait she admired them for (though she'd slit her own throat before she admitted it), one which had ever eluded the prestigious Sforza clan, and the Borgias knew that the gossipmongers of Rome also controlled – in their own way – who lived or died and if they spread the news of the newest Borgia bastard being fathered by someone likely, then their reputation was as good as destroyed. Caterina would rely on her spies and the mob of Rome…

Once she had completed her task and handed off the parchment to a pageboy dressed smartly in the gold Sforza livery, Caterina leaned back in her chair and cupped the slight, firm roundness of her belly where her child was thriving, "I think the moment has come, Rufio, when we must use our fortune, the Pazzi fortune, to our advantage and decimate the forces of Cesare Borgia. They have been _hors de combat_ for months now and both armies will be ill prepared for an attack they do not expect. The Duke of Valentinois has been foolish, letting his vast armies languish so and now, he shall pay the price for it. We lost the _condottieri _of the Romagna but we still have options open to us. You must hasten to the other great Ghibelline cities of Italy: Siena; Pisa; Cremona; Modena – also, you might try Piacenza – to offer coin for their armies and generals to assist our own forces."

Rufio nodded, pleased that his great lady was not going to let her pregnancy arrest their campaign and crucial work. He had at one stage believed that she would wait for the birth of her child and live out her confinement in tranquillity locked up in Forli's impregnable keep, but it seemed the child's presence added to her fervour and zeal to oust the Spanish Pope. He had known Benito for the sweet boy he was, who was murdered in cold blood and unlawfully, but he had also witnessed her defiance to Juan Borgia and his army when they lay siege to the city as she raised her skirts and dared them to slaughter her lamb of a son when she had the means to birth more children. He wondered if the impending arrival was just part of her plan or if it was due to maternal loneliness after the death of her son and the need to fill that empty space in her heart, but he knew she would never disclose such private and personal information to him, so he soon put the conjectures from his mind and headed for the stables to make ready to leave for Modena on the morrow. The journey would take a week or so, but he would have the chance to stay in relative luxury for at least a few nights in the castle at Imola, which was on the way. It was going to be an arduous few weeks as he attempted again to coax great men and great cities and towns to join his mistress' cause…but this time he had the gold coin of the Pazzi, whereas on his last endeavour, all he had were empty promises, which proved futile against the imminent reality that was Cesare Borgia.


	17. The Rubicon

**Chapter XVII - The Rubicon**

"In the past, my son," Rodrigo said from his bed, "we have acted in error. Recently, we have come to realise this and now will act properly in the future."

"Holy Father, I do not know what you are speaking about."

The Pope chuckled, "Your sister's upcoming betrothal."

Those words paralysed Cesare into silence and he could not move or find the words to respond to his father's announcement. He had been fully aware that his father was planning Lucrezia's third marriage but in the light of her condition, he had merely written off the notion of her ever being forced to remarry. He inwardly cursed at himself for banishing the thought from his mind; it was a foolish and naïve thing to do, particularly for a Borgia. He ought to have planned for this. Lucrezia would start to show soon…

"Her betrothal? Her betrothal to whom?" Cesare tried to feign distant curiosity.

Rodrigo was oblivious to his son's dissembling and rattled on, "We have not chosen a bridegroom for her, but we shall not make the same mistake as last time, our daughter will not be arranging her own marriage on this occasion."

Cesare winced, "So where are you considering an alliance?"

"We would welcome your counsel on that matter, my son," he replied, "but we were thinking of one of the heirs of Pavia. They have yet to declare for either the Sforzas or ourselves and we may be able to sway them with one of our estates in Spain as part of Lucrezia's dowry."

Cesare's counsel on who should marry his sister…what a thought! If he could have his way, he would shout from the rooftops of the Papal palace that he was in love with Lucrezia Borgia and had been for his whole life and that nobody but him would ever stand before an altar with her and that she was carrying his child. That was a pipe dream and was what he dreamed of every night he lay beside her and held her close, safe and warm in his arms, but he knew that the moment he disclosed that information, both of them would be ostracised, excommunicated – hell, their father probably couldn't stop them from being put to death – and he had promised himself many years ago that no one would ever lay a hand on his sister and he had already failed one too many times at that.

"If you will take my advice, Holy Father, "Cesare began cautiously, "don't waste any time planning a wedding for Lucrezia."

"Cesare, we _need _an alliance. Caterina Sforza has her man moving about the country offering money to all the Ghibelline cities. It seems impregnating the bitch has not diminished her dedication to seeing our family aflame on stakes. No, it is decided, Lucrezia must marry again."

"She's with child."

The black eyes of the Pope hardened and his pupils were so dark you could fall through them into an endless abyss, "Please tell me that you are trying – albeit unwisely and redundantly – to dissuade me from arranging your sister's marriage and that she is not truly with child, another bastard child!"

All Cesare could do was shake his head. Unsure as he was of which words would placate his father who had called for a manservant to clear away his breakfast tray. As he watched him rise from his bed, anger reflected in his every muscle as it moved within him, Cesare chose to remain silent and merely watch as his father cursed and fouled the name of every man he could conjure up that might have had the audacity to seed his precious and valuable daughter.

"Are you quite finished?" Cesare finally interrupted.

"Do you know who fathered the child?" Rodrigo asked with fire in his eyes.

Cesare hesitated before mumbling, "Yes, I do," under his breath.

"Well?!"

He scoffed, "Well what, father? He is far out of your reach now, so it does nobody any good for me to name him."

Rodrigo could see plainly that his eldest child was deflecting but he could not pinpoint the reason for it, but neither did he wish to let such an issue go and be made a fool of before the whole of Italy once more. He loved his daughter as any father does, but he was growing ever more tired of _his _family being in thrall to her heart and base desires. Did she not – or could she not – see that she betrayed all of them by allowing herself to bear these Borgia bastards? They needed to make alliances; Caterina Sforza would soon have another chip to bargain with in her impending arrival but the noble families of Europe were growing ever more tired of allying themselves to the Borgia family when their marriages seemed to end so quickly and with very little benefit to the other party. Lucrezia would need to be taught a lesson…

"You will tell me all you know, Cesare," Rodrigo bellowed, "for I grow weary of these surprises that you and your sister persist in creating! We would know the identity of our grandchild's father!"

Cesare deliberated for a minute. He knew he could never truly enlighten his father as to the babe's paternity, but equally, Rodrigo was not going to allow him to leave his presence without a name. It struck the young Borgia in a moment of sheer clarity that if a dead man could be labelled as the impregnator of his sister then it would be best for all, particularly Lucrezia, who was his only care.

"Father, the man is dead," he lied beautifully with the ease of a connoisseur of deceit, "he was a squire of Alfonso's I believe and when Alfonso could not perform his conjugal duties, he left my sister alone, so it is not surprising that she found another to take her absentee, drunk and _impotent _husband's place."

Rodrigo's eyes lit up and the edges of his lips curled up in a mocking smile, "Impotent, you say? He truly was unable? That was not what we were led to believe after the consummation of their marriage…"

"He was a virgin, father-"

"At that age?!" Rodrigo exclaimed in incredulity, for he was sure that he had taken a girl before he had even held a blade for the first time.

"Yes, father, anyway," Cesare moved back to the topic at hand, "it would do our family no good to publicise Alfonso's unfortunate…affliction, for Naples will merely deny the fact and call my sister a whore and _that _I cannot and will not tolerate for anything, not even the good of the family."

Those words once again plagued his existence, but on this occasion, he was using them correctly and he would never again allow their family to be an excuse for any wrongs he committed against the one, true love of his life.

"Very well, Cesare," the Pope conceded, "have it your way, though you may go now and inform your dear sister that we are not pleased with her and she shall do penance for this. She does not control this family and its fate – I do. Her desires are fleeting and they pass, but our family has to stay and be constant, for I will not have all that I – we – have built to be shattered by her fickle heart and its wants."

It was all Cesare could do not to erupt in a fit of rage and run his father through for threatening his sister so, but it would do no good. While Rodrigo Borgia sat in St. Peter's Chair, there was still power to be won for the Borgia family, which was about to grow one bigger, and the Sforza threat could not be nullified without the support of the Pope of Rome.

"Be gone with you," he dismissed with a pithy wave of his hand, "we must visit with your esteemed mother and you must hasten to Lucrezia and ensure that you convey our words to her _in full_."

Cesare came upon his sister in her chambers sitting at her dresser with a maid behind her arranging her curly golden locks into an ornate and elegant coiffure, but when Lucrezia caught sight of his entrance in her mirror, she sent away her maid and invited Cesare to complete her incomplete task. It was their secret. He had always relished touching her sensuous hair and he had developed quite a knack at doing her hair when he was younger. If their father ever found out that his most military-minded son enjoyed hairstyling, he would have had him flogged, but it was yet another aspect of Cesare's life that Rodrigo would never be aware of.

"You have seen our father today, brother." Lucrezia stated plainly with a smug, knowing look in her eye.

He chuckled at how well she read him, "How do you know that, my love?"

"You always look troubled when you come from father's chambers. You wear that face often," she said softly, turning round to rest against his chest, not caring about her hair, "but what is it that has grieved you this time?"

Cesare kissed the top of her head, "Father knows now that you are with child, _mi preciosa_. I had to tell him, for he was speaking of arranging another marriage for you."

She started. It was not like the last time when she had to face her father with a bastard child safely in her belly, for she had always imagined Paolo to be out of his reach but Cesare was this child's – this most treasured child's – father and the Pope could very easily exact punishment on his son for seeding his daughter.

"What did you tell him?"

He could see she was upset by the revelation so he pulled her up and into his arms fully, rubbing her back soothingly and murmured, "Do not fret. I told him that the father was an attendant of Alfonso's and that he was dead. He did not question me further about that, but he did tell me to inform you that he is not pleased with you and that you will atone."

She burst into tears and collapsed to the cold floor, "What will he do? He can't take Giovanni from me, can he? You wouldn't let him. Will he take our child instead, Cesare?"

That idea burned through him like raw steel. He calmed her from her side on the floor, "No, no, never, my love. Nothing will ever harm you or your children ever again, you have my solemn oath. I will protect you, for your condition is not entirely your fault, after all, as – if I remember correctly – we crossed the Rubicon together, sis."

Lucrezia glanced upwards and noticed the attempted playful glint that he had in his handsome eyes and remembered the night in their mother's house when they had conceived their child. She took Cesare's strong hand and placed it gently on her slightly swelling belly where their mutual child was stirring, just as a flutter beneath her gown.

"I can feel him." Cesare whispered with tears in his eyes.

"The child is quickening and thanks his father for promising to protect him and his mama." Lucrezia replied, pressing a chaste kiss to said father's upper lip, lingering there for a moment.

Cesare drew the mother of his child onto his lap for a more passionate kiss, which he threw himself into more once he could actually feel the small, new roundness of her stomach against his own. There would never be any other woman for him.

As yet another worry fell down on Lucrezia she unwillingly pulled away from Cesare's sweet lips, "What will happen after my confinement? Will he try to sell me then?"

"I promise you with every fibre of my heart that no one can sell you, Lucrezia Borgia. _You are_ _mine_. By the time our child comes into the world, this Rome of ours, I _will_ have control of the Papal forces and Caterina Sforza will be my captive. Our father will no longer have power over us both; we will be at the head of the most powerful and feared army that Italy has ever seen: the French, the Papal and I will take the armies of Forli and Imola too. There will not be a soul in the world to pose even the slightest of threats to us and our family. This, I swear to you, my love and my child," he proclaimed, holding her firmly at her waist, "I will do and by the time our son is born."

She winked, satisfied with his assurances, "Or our daughter?"

"No," he replied teasingly, "I think our son."

She fell over him laughing freely and agreed that she too hoped and thought she was carrying a son for Cesare, her brother, her keeper, her lover and the father of her child.


	18. A Letter from Gioffre

**Author's Note: **

There will be a bit of a gap between this update and the next as I am touring with a choir in Barcelona for the rest of the week and I have to prepare for that, though I will try to have a couple of Spain-inspired chapters for you! I don't know how many chapters this will end up being but I want to continue it until I feel it has resolved everything I wished could have been done in the series. Enjoy reading and carry on reviewing please!

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**Chapter XVIII - A Letter from Gioffre**

"_The first half of our lives is ruined by our parents, the second half by our children."_

_~ Clarence Darrow_

"Vannozza! VANNOZZA!" Rodrigo roared as he thundered into his mistress' parlour.

She stood up as quickly from where she was sitting serenely reading a letter from her youngest boy as she could under the rolls of her green silk gown, "What is it, my love?"

"_Your _children," he accused viciously, "are conspiring against us, against their own father no less!"

"I doubt that, Rodrigo, they love their father and would do anything for him. Now, what has occurred to make you think so badly of our son and daughter?"

"First of all, Lucrezia is with child." He snarled savagely.

"What? To whom? "

"To some dead squire of her husband's," he bit back, "but that is not the point. The point is that she now cannot be married and serve her family. She acts on her own whims and desires before even considering the family and our survival in this viper's den of a land."

"And Cesare?" Vannozza almost feared to inquire.

"Well, our eldest son has seen fit to take his sister's side, as he has always done and chosen not to disclose the identity of mentioned squire to us. He also chooses not to involve us _at all_ in his plans for Caterina Sforza and Forli! It is intolerable, Vannozza!"

The woman who was enduring his ranting looked at him with the sympathetic expression which she had perfected during her years as a courtesan. She understood well how Rodrigo felt as he lost control of Cesare and the army that he now had at his back and that frightened him. Cesare was too much like his father for the prospect not to be terrifying…he would be a force to petrify the whole of Italy. The two men had never been especially close, in spite of her son's persistent efforts to win his father's approval and love, so it surprised her much less than it did the Pope of Rome that the Duke of Valentinois had grown weary of expending his energy searching for something he would never achieve. He had seen his goal was never going to come to fruition and had cut his losses and now, he sought to rule his father as he had been governed all his life. The next few months were going to be trying, to say the least for the matriarch of the Borgia clan.

As for Lucrezia, she was proud of her, fiercely proud of her only daughter. She was not happy either that she had conceived out of wedlock, but she was glad at the news of another grandchild. She adored little Giovanni, but he was fast becoming not-so-little Giovanni and that made her sorrowful as she remembered the past when her little ones were only babes in her arms before they acquired ambition and invited her as their mistress into each of their beds. Her daughter's impending confinement made her smile slightly as she was relieved that her darling would not be subjected to another political marriage that would only end in more of her tears and heartbreak. Her first marriage had broken her body and heart, her second had devastated her pride and she fervently hoped that Cesare would rout Caterina Sforza from Forli before it became essential for a third union, which she knew from her brief and rare conversations with her son that he was trying hard to avoid a third unhappy marriage for his sister, his favourite.

"For pity's sake, speak, woman!" Rodrigo barked.

She sniggered, "Forgive me, but I do not know how to console you or counsel you and I know not what else you would have me say to you."

"Say what you intend to do with your troublesome offspring and say to them when you do!" He commanded showing none of the love Vannozza often praised him for.

"You know as well as I do that I have very little control over our eldest," she reminded him, finding some of her own Spanish fire, "and moreover, I am pleased that Lucrezia is with child once more, for it is the only thing in her life that gives her any joy. Cesare is his own master and as I have told you before, he is the head of this family and as such, can do as he pleases."

"I AM THE HEAD OF THIS FAMILY!"

"No, my love, you are not. You are the Pope of Rome, all the world is your family and the only man who devotes himself entirely to our family is Cesare, because he can. We all love you, Rodrigo, but you need to accept the fact that now, your son, Cesare rules the Borgias, not you."

This conversation was quickly becoming disagreeable to His Holiness, as it seemed that unusually Vannozza was not in a tractable mood and was of the opinion that their errant children were acting in their own best interests and that of the family. He paced about for a moment in an attempt to expel all his anger, when he caught sight of the paper on the table.

"Who has written to you?" He asked, his voice still tinged with the vehement edge of his rage.

"Our youngest son, Gioffre," she replied with a smile, pleased that he had let the subject of their other children be at last, "from Squillace."

Her smile was returned gladly as Rodrigo spared a thought for his youngest child, the child who had ever been the light of his days and the kindest and gentlest of boys. He felt instantly ashamed that he had not really remembered Gioffre in the past years since his marriage to the Duchessa Sancia. He was, however, thankful that the boy's own mother had not forgotten him and had been communicating with him in his father's stead.

"And how is our son?"

"I think he is well in health and body, but he is coming to Rome next month and bringing his wife with him, so I believe there may be something amiss between them, but we shall have to wait and see. The castle at Squillace seems to be agreeing with him, though, and he is happy with his place there as Duke."

Rodrigo thought that he would be happy to see his young child again whom he had sent away from Rome still in childhood, but marriage – especially marriage to one such as Sancia of Naples – had the nature of making men out of boys.

"I understand that she felt Juan's death most keenly."

That remark jolted the Pope out of his reverie, recollecting the days when Gioffre would be passed between his older brothers as they played with him and Lucrezia would hold him and dote upon him so sweetly. Their family life was so much easier then, when the Borgia children were just that.

"That is kind of her," he deflected, understanding why Vannozza had brought it up, but not willing to delve into the matter of his daughter-in-law's promiscuities, "we shall thank her for it when she returns to Rome."

"Rodrigo…" Vannozza admonished in a low voice that he knew well.

"I know what you meant by your words, do not fret," he scoffed, "indeed, all of Rome knew that Juan sampled his brother's bride on a nightly basis and before they were wed, but Gioffre remained unsuspecting so I was not going to tell my thirteen year old boy that before he had his wedding night, his brother had already readied his wife for him!"

Vannozza knew that he spoke the truth, even though it pained her that Juan had so selfishly abused his youngest brother's trust when he had travelled to Naples to conclude the negotiations for his marriage, "From what I have read, I think our son has been aware for a while that his wife is less than faithful to her vows and husband, but I know not why. Perhaps Cesare can coax the truth from him and speak to him of such matters."

"Why Cesare?" Rodrigo asked, endeavouring not to show how incensed he was that his mistress had suggested Cesare and not him for that task.

"Because Cesare has always been Gioffre's favourite brother and those two were close, not as close as Cesare is to Lucrezia but it is the same kind of thing. Cesare values innocence and purity above all things, Rodrigo," she explained, sorry that she even had to explain his son's likes to his father, "he always has because he views himself as so impure and tainted. Lucrezia and Gioffre help him to blot out some of that disease and they, in turn, used to look forward to his visits, for he always used to take an interest in them, although they were only the illegitimate daughter and the third son."

That surprised Rodrigo more than he let on as he raised his left eyebrow. It was true that until Lucrezia was of a marriageable age, he had never invested as much time in her as he had in his two older sons and Gioffre was the sweetest of his children but as the youngest of three sons, he had never assigned a purpose to the boy, whereas he had always known that one would take the cloth and one would wear a sword for Juan and Cesare, though that plan had gone awfully awry. He wondered for a brief moment if things would have been different had he given the armour to his oldest and compelled Juan to join the church. Juan actually had the temperament of a cardinal: selfish, ambitious and profligate in his behaviour and tastes. Maybe he had made an erroneous decision…but he could not do anything now.

"Write back to Gioffre and tell him that he must come as soon as possible. Lucrezia will want to tell him about her pregnancy and we would very much like to meet our youngest child again. You might also add that currently he is the only child we are somewhat proud of."

Vannozza rolled her eyes at that comment, knowing full well that nothing could force her to include that in her reply, but she was relieved when she caught Rodrigo wink at her as he left her villa to head back to his kingdom. She spared a moment for her other two children and was pleased that they had abandoned their father's shadow to cast their own and what shadows they would be…


	19. A Whore in her Bower

**Author's Note: **

Ok, just one more (really long!) chapter before I go abroad, as thanks for all the reviews, follows and favourites, which all mean so much to me!

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**Chapter XIX - A Whore in her Bower**

_Two months later…_

"They are here, Holy Father!" Lucrezia proclaimed from the colonnades that had the view of the gate to the Vatican.

"I am coming, Lucrezia." He replied, hastening to join the three members of his family who were already standing in wait for his youngest son's cavalcade.

Rodrigo looked on with pride as his Gioffre leapt off his chestnut mare with the grace of a man and strode towards the stairs in his deep blue velvet doublet. He had the bearing of a man now, though he had left a boy. This was not the same Gioffre who had eagerly clambered onto his lap every night to hear stories of Spanish maidens and Italian lords, who had assured him that he would marry the woman of his father's choosing to bring him peace of mind and this was not the same boy who had never heard a foul word or experienced betrayal.

"Holy Father," Gioffre said curtly, "it is most pleasant to see you again after so long."

All four members of the Borgia family stood in astonishment as this paragon of etiquette and detachment greeted them. Vannozza saw the icy exterior of her boy as it coated his true sensitivity, Lucrezia noticed how lithe and muscular he had become since she had bade him farewell after his wedding night and Cesare observed only the eyes of his youngest brother as they never sought out any other eyes. It was the manner of one who had lost the ability to trust others and who had seen something treacherous in the eyes of someone and had never recovered.

"And where is our esteemed daughter-in-law?" Rodrigo asked, trying in vain to alleviate the tension in the air.

Gioffre merely waved his hand behind him and waited while his relatives witnessed his wife disembarking from her wagon along with her retinue of maids.

"Shall we go inside? There is much to discuss."

Cesare replied, "Certainly, brother, you must tell us all about Squillace. We have heard from mother that the castle there is most grand."

The Duke of Squillace only nodded, unwilling to boast of the joys of his dukedom and its stronghold, which, in truth, did not suit him at all but was more to the taste of Sancia. The castle was awash with brocade and heinous fineries that did not appeal to the modest young Borgia, who had ever favoured plain fashions, but the differences between Sancia and himself would be a much deliberated topic by the end of his sojourn in Rome.

Vannozza and her daughter remained to escort the prodigal bride into the Vatican and were surprised when they observed her wan and haggard frame as it trudged towards them. When she had departed the Holy See, Sancia of Naples was a woman in her prime, vibrant and lively, she had the air of one who revelled in life and all its many pleasures, but now she was precisely the opposite. She appeared to be weary of life and all its many hardships. It was a sorrowful sight to the Borgia women.

"Your Grace," Lucrezia greeted amiably, "how honoured we are to see you and my brother come back to Rome. You must be tired after your long journey. Come, let us show you to your apartment and you can take a cup of wine."

"Forgive me, Lady Lucrezia," she asked as she reached the top of the stairs, "but I must decline your offer of wine, for my physicians have ordered that I only drink water in the coming months."

After those odd words, Vannozza and Lucrezia noticed with wide eyes the retinue that travelled with the Duchessa, the retinue that included a nursemaid and a physician and the former was holding a young infant close to her ample bosom as it slept.

"We were not informed that Gioffre and you had been blessed with a child!" Vannozza exclaimed in a wounded and outraged voice.

"_We _have not been blessed – as you say – with any such issue," she retorted sharply, "as this boy is my child and the natural son of the Duke of Mantua."

This news stunned the women who were unable to do anything except watch as Sancia walked past them and into the cool shade after her husband who had left her behind like a common servant. It was clear that the men would soon be discussing – if, indeed, they weren't already – Gioffre's union with Sancia, which was in tatters.

"Father, I married her under your orders," Gioffre bellowed at the Pope, "and I was a young and stupid fool that was manipulated into taking a bride of such a nature, but God on high knows that I am not so senseless now!"

Cesare truly sympathised with his youngest sibling's plight, for he too was tethered in a loveless marriage, but his had gained him an army and it seemed that Gioffre's had won him naught but a serially adulterous bride and now, a child born of his wife begat by another man, "Gioffre, I can sincerely appreciate your plight, but tell us _exactly _what it is you want."

"My thanks, brother," he snapped, his words dripping with sarcasm, "for your pity but all I desire from my family now is the annulment of my sham of a marriage and a papal bull declaring that bastard child of hers and Gonzaga a bastard in the eyes of Italy and God!"

As he concluded his rant, Lucrezia entered the room with raised eyebrows, "You have changed, brother," she said, "and not for the better, indeed, you remind me decidedly of our unlucky brother who was dredged out of the Tiber."

"Lucrezia!" The Pope chastised with eyes that warned her.

"What, father? I speak only the truth and he knows it. Look at him, the boy who was the sweetest child in Spain, who came to Rome and was wed to a slut and became the coldest of all the Borgias and that, my _dear _brother, is saying something."

Gioffre quickly headed over to where his sister stood and before any could react, took a hand to her cheek and there he left his angry, red mark on her cheek.

"You do not speak that way to me, Lucrezia Borgia! Not when you have been married twice and neither of your husbands survived you. How fortunate you are!"

"ENOUGH!" Cesare thundered from his place at Lucrezia's side, where he was anchored, luckily for Gioffre.

"Daughter, are you all right? You're not hurt?" Rodrigo asked.

Cesare was holding her firmly against him, one hand round her waist, the other pressed gently against her round belly, reassuring himself that the child within was unharmed by its uncle's violent temper. He was sure that it had only been the shock of Gioffre's attack that had caused the colour in her cheeks to fade, but he was still quite tempted just to run his brother through for good measure. Not even Juan had ever had the audacity to raise a hand to Lucrezia, especially not when her staunchest protector was an onlooker…

"Get out, now." Cesare advised Gioffre with malice and vengeance smouldering in his eyes.

Lucrezia looked up at her favourite brother, "Cesare, will you take me to my room? I think I need to lie down for a while."

Once Cesare had deposited Lucrezia in her bed and told her that he would leave to bring the physician to her, he walked to the apartment that had been readied for Gioffre's arrival and was yet more incensed when he found his brother and sister-in-law in the middle of an argument that sounded well-rehearsed and time-honoured. He never imagined that he would ever understand someone who could commit adultery against his brother, but he was beginning to identify more with Sancia as the day went on.

"Brother, do stop shouting at your wife. I suppose she must be as tired of it as I am and she – I suspect – has been bearing it for much longer than I have been witness to it."

"What business is it of yours what I say to my own wife or how I choose to say it?" He replied angrily.

"Oh, do not mistake me," he said, his hands upheld as if in surrender, "I care nothing for your wife or indeed, for you, anymore after what you did to Lucrezia only moments ago."

"She is alive, is she not? She will bear no scar, no lasting damage, so why do you come here?"

Cesare cuffed him soundly round the head, not as hard as he had struck Lucrezia but hard enough to get him to face him, "Brother, she is with child! How have you, who were such a sweet and biddable boy, come to be such a brute, an intemperate man who lashes out at expectant women?"

Gioffre held his head in his hands, remorseful of his foolish and rash actions. Sancia only smiled quietly to herself as she saw her husband regret his violence against his sister who had committed the same crimes as she had but was protected by the Borgia name. Cesare was relieved to see that his brother still could feel sorry for what he had done to his sister, but was still seething with rage.

"My lady sister," he said, facing Sancia, "would you be so kind as to leave me alone with your husband?"

Cesare could not call him his brother in that moment, but he saw the boy his brother used to be and could be again in the depths of his eyes and so he could not place him in the same rung in which he had placed Juan, not quite yet.

"What happened, Gioffre? What really happened to make you so angry? I have never seen one so overcome by rage and hate."

"I caught her, Cesare," he replied quietly with tears filling his eyes, "I caught her in bed with the Duke of Mantua while we were all in Modena. She was fucking him in our bed. It was as if she was not even taking the trouble to conceal her affairs. She took with child after that and she tried in vain to name me as her bastard's father, but the times did not match up and I confessed I had seen them in bed together. She then claimed that only Francesco Gonzaga had lain with her and it was a brief moment of weakness and I forgave her quickly. I told her that she could have the child in Squillace, but then we would travel to Rome for an annulment, which she agreed to, but when word reached us that Juan was dead, her grief was so deep and relentless that it was obvious the two of them were lovers. When I questioned her on the matter, she confessed _all_ to me, everything. She told me of her conquests before she left the Neapolitan court and of the days Juan spent there negotiating our marriage and what they got up to. It was the news that she had fucked him like a whore in her bower while I was in the bedchamber speaking to her on our wedding night. Then, my eyes were opened, too cruelly and quickly, brother."

Cesare let his tale sink in. Of course, he had been aware of Juan and Sancia's assignations both in Naples and later, in Rome, but never had he thought that Juan would stoop so low as to parade his affair with his brother's betrothed and wife right in front of said brother. He approached his now weeping sibling as he sat vulnerable and defenceless before him and placed his arm around him, drawing his shuddering form against his for strength and comfort.

"It is alright, little brother," he soothed, rubbing his back, "it will all be resolved. It is true, you were naïve, but you were so young and it was refreshing for us other, sinful Borgias to allow you to remain so, you kept us tethered to humanity and the innocence we all strived for. It was wrong of us to do so, so I ask for your forgiveness, Gioffre. I only wish Juan were here so he could do the same."

Gioffre was jolted from his frequent and constant sobs by Cesare's last words, "Do you really, brother? For, even in Squillace, rumour reached our ears, rumour that implied that it was your hand that sent our brother to his untimely death."

Cesare jumped at that accusation, but since all his family knew he had committed fratricide, he saw no reason to hide the truth from his remaining brother, "It's true. I did kill him. He threatened the life of Giovanni, so I took his. He became addicted to opium and he was a danger to us all and our name. I did what was necessary. Still, I wish he could have begged your pardon before he died, for it seems he should have done so while he drew breath."

"So," Gioffre said with a slight smile, "it seems rumour can speak the truth, after all."

"Very rarely." Cesare replied, happy to see his brother's easy smile return. He suspected it had been long absent. How easily they fell back into the teasing they had shared as younger men.

"Shall I have my annulment then, Cesare?" Gioffre asked in a whisper.

Cesare nodded, "Indeed, you shall, but I must ask you this, brother: do you wish to be remarried?"

"I once told you that I would only marry once and I still mean that."

He winced, "Then I counsel you to ride back to Squillace at the earliest opportunity after you have the annulment, for father is still livid that Lucrezia cannot be once again made to marry in her condition and your petition for annulment might inspire him to consider you as his next pawn in the marriage market for alliances and I do not wish that upon you, dear brother. You do not deserve such."

"But alas, our father has no more children…" Gioffre quipped in resignation.

Cesare chuckled, "Indeed, so our father must give his reins over his children's lives into the hands of his children at long last, I think, for I would not see Lucrezia wed again either."

"Not ever?" Gioffre inquired.

"She has no wish to take a third husband and after her last two unions, I would be loath to see her forced into a marriage with two illegitimate children who would also suffer from such an event. She wants to stay here with mama and Giovanni and her babe and now that I have my army, I can pressure our father into permitting her to do so, after all, we are now allied to most of the Romagna and Caterina Sforza is now no match for me."

"Then why have you stayed your hand?"

In truth, Cesare did not want to leave Lucrezia to go off to fight. He wanted to be with her during her confinement and the birth of his son, but he had been informing those who had asked him the very same question, a group that included his mother, his father, Micheletto, the Vice-Chancellor and the second and bastard sons of the Roman nobility, that he wanted to wait until Caterina birthed her own baby before he lay siege to Forli. If he could arrive in the days after she gave birth, then he would have the advantage over her anyway.

"Reasons that do not concern you, brother," he said with a smile, showing he meant no disrespect or enmity, "instead you must concentrate on the matter of your marriage and try to relax now that you're back. Spend some time with mother, apologise to our sister, explain yourself to His Holiness and then, come and have a cup of wine with me, brother. I am always in my rooms if I am anywhere in Rome and you are always welcome to visit with me."

Cesare then took his leave and hurried back to Lucrezia's side, where the medic informed him that all was well with the mother and her child but she ought to rest awhile before rising. He entreated her not to mention Gioffre's outburst to their mother and he would ask the same of their father and told her that their brother had not intended to harm her and that soon all would be as it should.

She kissed him with vigour before he left to seek out the Pope of Rome before he crossed paths with Vannozza and the victim of Gioffre's violence was divulged. Was there ever an end to the intrigues in the Borgia family? It seemed not…


	20. Hot Spanish Blood

**Author's Note: **

I'm baaaaaack! Many apologies for that brief hiatus, but I was on tour and there was genuinely no time to write, what with all the singing, drinking and travelling. Do enjoy this chapter as part of it was inspired by my recent stay in and around Barcelon and it was a chapter with Cesare and Lucrezia that resembled their scenes as Cesare was fitted with armour or his shirt before heading to Naples. Please do leave me reviews after my stint away from writing, for I miss them!

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**Chapter XX - Hot Spanish Blood**

Cesare strode into his sister's bedroom to find her still languid on her bed, pale as she had been when he left her in her physician's company. He had just left Gioffre's company and was satisfied that his youngest sibling would never again pose a threat to Lucrezia or anyone else in his family. Now that all seemed to be resolved – at least for the time being – he had no other purpose in the world except to spend the rest of the day in his lover's arms and playing with little Giovanni.

"Good afternoon, my love," he greeted when he was assured that they were alone together, "are you quite well?"

She beckoned him close and as he sat beside her on the grand bed, she laid his hand against her swelling belly, "See, brother? We are, both of us, quite all right."

He sighed, "Wonderful! For you had me quite worried there for a time, sis."

Lucrezia could not mistake the look of blame that he swiftly sent her way before he masked it with another of relief. She knew better than to chide him for holding her responsible for her current condition, as she was aware that he only meant that she should know how dearly he held her in his heart that were anything unfortunate to befall her, or their child, he would be a broken man, especially if he felt it was something that he could protect her from or be avoided.

"Brother, go and fetch Giovanni from his cot," she instructed, tactfully abandoning the topic, "I would have him here with us."

Once he had returned babe in arms, her face regained some of its usual colour and her eyes brightened as her child came into view in his uncle's strong arms. Cesare too was affected by the presence of the littlest Borgia moving slightly as he carried him to his mama. The boy had the wondrous ability to erase all feelings of melancholia and depression. As he smiled, so did all others in his presence.

As he watched Lucrezia play with the toddler, Cesare asked her softly, "Do you remember, sis, when we used to play with Gioffre thus in Spain?"

"I do, Cesare," she nodded, her attention still on her boy, "but what of it?"

"Do you ever wish we could all return to Spain and live simple lives as mere bastard children of a junior cleric?"

She looked up, startled at that, "No, I can't say that I have. Do you wish that?"

He took Giovanni into his lap and allowed him to fiddle with his cuffs, "I find Rome tiresome and its politics dreary and repetitive. I have only just achieved my army, but still father's love eludes me and without that, I do not know what the point of my vast army is. I still feel the same as I did when I was young and ignorant of Rome."

"My brother, ever longing for his father's approval," she replied, stroking the sharp stubble on his cheek, "with your army you are the most powerful and envied man in Italy. You have subdued the Roman families and soon, Caterina Sforza will bow at your feet and beg for your mercy. You could not wield such power were we still insignificant to the world in Spain."

"I don't believe that you never think of our childhoods and wish that the likes of Giovanni Sforza and the King of Naples had never crossed your path!"

Lucrezia sighed, "Of course I have rued the days I met those men, Cesare, but I cannot spend my life wishing things undone. I miss Spain just as much as you do – maybe more – but I could not bear it if we had never come to Rome!"

"Why?" He bellowed.

"Because if we had never come to Rome, if papa had not been elected Pope, if you had not been made cardinal and then eschewed your red robes, then you would never have come to me and I would be more alone and unhappy than I would have been had you not murdered both of my husbands."

The debate was starting to get heated and the baby boy in Cesare's arms, placed between them, was beginning to sense the discord and unrest surrounding him, so Cesare rose and swayed and sang one of Vannozza's Spanish lullabies to lull him. When his efforts proved fruitless, he deposited the baby in his crib, intending to return for him once his mother had been placated and returned to Lucrezia and threw himself onto her with as much force as he dared.

He felt the length of her lithe body against his more muscular one as he pressed his lips fiercely into hers, held her head down with his forehead, found her wrists and gripped them firmly above her head.

"Careful of the child, my love," she cautioned, willing to love her brother, yet unwilling to put her unborn child in harm's way.

Cesare angled himself so he could better feel the roundness of her stomach against his already fevered crotch, "Trust me, dearest, I am taking _every_ care with our child."

She blushed as she became aware of his hardness pressed against her pregnant belly. She was sure that her redness was so strong that even the tops of her pert breasts were rouging. She had never borne such love, such passion for another in her life, full of amorous adventures though it had been, as she carried for her eldest brother and truest love. She would not have endured the attentions of the Lord Sforza or even Alfonso while she was _enceinte_, she would have been worried for her child, but in Cesare's arms and with his assurances that he would be mindful of the child in her womb, she knew she and her child were entirely in safe hands.

"I would have come to you, my love," he continued as he struggled to raise her shift, "eventually, but alas, I am but a man and slow in realising where my heart lies, but I give you my word that we would have still found our way to this bed together."

A tear was shed at his words, "No, Cesare, we would never have been united had we stayed in Spain. It simply would not have occurred in our home country. Such a thing can only happen when Spanish blood is removed from its green gardens, smouldering sun and melodious music. Otherwise, the consolations of Spain take a lover's place in the hearts of men. Such things make men believe they are content in their lives, but the Spanish situation deceives us, brother. It was only the Italian winds that uncovered our eyes and blew away the blindfold, leaving us wanting."

Cesare could find nothing in himself to respond to that outpouring of her soul and thoughts of home and him, so he once again took her lips in his own and made love to them, desiring to wipe all doubts from her mind and replace those thoughts with feelings of love and lust for him and him alone. She grasped at his lips and tongue with a new ferocity and her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, unyielding and firm.

He had finally succeeded in lifting her skirts so he could manoeuvre himself betwixt her fine, beautiful legs and release himself from his own restrictive garment to enter her with force. He was still heedful of her condition, but he could not hold himself back from her for one more instant.

"I would not trade our childhoods in Spain for this," he mumbled, trying to find his pace as he thrust within her and she met him at each gyration, "I would not trade _anything _for this! I love you too much, my love."

"Hush now, brother," she ordered as her voice began to fail her, lost as she was in their lovemaking, "we can speak later. Now, all I want is for you to love me."

"I shall always love you." And with that, he spoke no more for the next fifteen minutes and concentrated only on bringing pleasure to his sister as she writhed beneath him.

He was nearly brought to tears when, so close to her climax, she clasped his hand and brought it to her belly so that he could feel the three of them, their small family united in love. He could just about sense the faint kicks and movements of their babe as he shifted in his mother's excited belly as his parents made love. He had never known any feeling so divine and miraculous.

They came together, as they always did without fail and Cesare fell back away from her and threw himself next to her panting and washed in waves of perspiration. When he turned to her to inquire if she was well, he saw that he need not ask because a contented smile was spreading from her lips to the innermost parts of her eyes and her brow too was coated in beads of sweat and he thought as he examined his post-coital sister that she had never looked more beautiful as she did in that minute.

"_Eres el amor de mi vida,"_ Cesare whispered into her ear, knowing he would never speak a truer word and his mother tongue made it all the more honest.

Lucrezia smiled more at his words and replied, "_Te quiero con toda mi alma_."

"I think the fertile Spanish soil and its sweltering sun can live in our memories and in our souls, my Lucrezia," he murmured as he pulled her back into his embrace, "for we are siblings. We love each other and we are Spanish so we embrace."

She seemed to disappear into a memory until she invited Cesare to join her, "I remember one day when we sat in the foothills near our grandfather's villa and I had two of my dolls by the stream. You and Juan were playing with your wooden swords nearby and Gioffre was not yet born. I dropped my favourite doll into the stream and it flowed away. I ran after it beside the stream for what seemed like an hour to my little legs until it caught behind a rock. When I went in to retrieve my toy I remember falling and I must have hit my head, for the next thing I remember was you leaning over me, Cesare, holding your sleeve to my head and telling me that it would all be all right because you, my brother, the brother who loved me, was by my side."

"And I have always been by your side, Lucrezia," Cesare replied, holding her cheeks between his hands, and there will I remain until we both die in our beds beside each other after we're spent from fucking and we will quit this place together, for I could not bear to live for even a single second without you, my love."

Lucrezia kissed him chastely before rising to pick up Giovanni and bring him over to the bed so he could be with the two people who loved him most in the world and lie against his mother's belly and feel the presence of another who would grow to adore him as Lucrezia doted on her older brother. If Cesare could have found a painter who would have deemed it proper to paint such a picture of naked man beside his expectant sister, to whom he had just made the sweetest love, and her bastard child to a stable boy from Pesaro, he would have paid anything to ensure that moment was immortalised, for they looked – and both adults felt – just like the Holy Family that they ought to have been.


	21. Unlikely Friends

**Author's Note: **

As I have been watching the series again over the past few days, I realised during "The Wolf and the Lamb" that Micheletto has not had as much story time as he would have had screen time, so here's a little interlude of a chapter before I return to Caterina and Forli featuring Micheletto and Lucrezia, whose relationship I have wanted to explore further for a while.

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**Chapter XXI - Unlikely Friends**

_Two months later…_

"Do you love my brother, Micheletto?" Lucrezia asked her shadow.

Micheletto was taken aback by his lady's question, but he had known her for a long time now by Vatican standards where it was uncustomary to know anyone for long if at all. He knew that Cesare would not have disclosed his sexual preferences to his sister, so the suspicion that the Lady Lucrezia meant did he love her brother physically and sexually was fleeting.

"Do I love your brother?" Micheletto countered, "I am unsure as to your meaning, my lady."

Lucrezia eyed him closely, sure that he was deflecting and that he had understood her perfectly, "I ask you if you love my brother, your lord, the Duke of Valentinois, Cesare Borgia. You have served him for many years, have you not? So, I surmise that it must be something other than silver that binds you to him."

"Indeed, my lady, you are correct in that. I do hold his lordship in the highest esteem and I do his bidding for more than the gold that lines my purse."

She was growing weary and impatient with his evasion of her questions. She could feel her child within her turn and kick with every passing moment and she was getting very little sleep now that she was well into her seventh month of pregnancy. She was no longer permitted to leave her chambers and although it was highly unconventional, Micheletto had been given leave by His Holiness at the urging of her brother to remain at her side as her stalwart guardian. She was relieved that in Cesare's stead, Micheletto was with her for her maids were insufferable harpies whom she could not bear to be forever swarming about her, plumping cushions and smoothing down her hair. If she did not converse with the manservant he merely sat at the foot of her bed keeping watch over her while she rested or slept and even if she was awake but silent, he did not press her for conversation, taciturn man that he was. He was the ideal companion for her during her confinement.

"Why do you not confide in me, Micheletto? We are friends, are we not? You may trust that whatever you reveal to me will be kept in confidence, I swear it."

He wiped his face roughly with his hand, "I am grieved to have caused you to doubt my faith in your ladyship, for it is not my wish to do so. I simply chose to keep certain matters to myself lest they weaken your confidence in me."

Lucrezia was unsure if it was her current condition or just the way in which the assassin's tone moved her that was the cause of the tug on her heart which occurred as she heard his pitiful words. They were words rife with the caution and suspicion that his trade had thrust upon him, for weakness and careless faith were the downfall of men such as Micheletto Corella.

"Nothing you could ever tell me, Micheletto," she began strongly, "would ever shake the faith that I have placed in you, or that which my brother has and we both know that Cesare Borgia is careful with his affections and trust. I know what you have done for our family, what you have sacrificed and I would not have you believe that you are uncared for or taken for granted by us Borgias, for we value you highly, both in your capacity as assassin and most trusted friend. I was wary of my brother's decision to reveal the true nature of our relationship to you, but I was foolish to consider you a danger to our happiness and for that I ask your forgiveness. Cesare informed me that his last order very nearly severed the ties between you and us-"

"My lady, what did he tell you _precisely_?" Micheletto interrupted, suddenly entrapped by the fear that he had overestimated Cesare Borgia's trustworthiness.

Lucrezia laughed as she rose from her couch, "Do not fret, Micheletto. All that I have told you is all that my brother saw fit to divulge to me, so he has kept your secrets whatever they may be, for he in turn is grateful that you continually keep ours. Anyway – as I was saying – I would be of some comfort to you, Micheletto, for I have been told that you have no one in this city of ours other than my brother and I, so I would have you treat us as your true friends."

Micheletto was beginning to see just how far this great lady, who was proclaimed callous and a _venefica _throughout the whole of Italy, cared for those about her: her family, her lovers and it seemed, him. He was not so stupid as to believe her affections were merited or steadfast but his cold heart was warmed by her kind and gentle words towards one whom it would have been excusable and usual for her to disregard as one of her many attendants and bodyguards.

"My lady is too kind to me," he said, bowing as she approached him, "I am unworthy of such benevolence, however, I do wish to serve you and have been commanded to do whatever you will and if you wish me to reveal to you the inner workings of my bloody and black heart, then I shall do so honestly."

His lady smiled, much gratified by his acquiescence to her request and nodded to prod him into his confession, for she would know him as well as her lover did, for he had served them both well for many years. He had aided Cesare in his efforts to keep their family safe and he had saved her son, her mother and her from Caterina Sforza's assassins who had almost succeeded in their sordid mission and he had accompanied her to Naples, where he had candidly removed the obstacle of the Neapolitan king who had obstructed her plans to bring her child to her and then placed her son in her arms and dared the entire royal court to attempt to separate a mother from her beloved child again.

"My lady, you know that blood stains these ugly hands. You have yourself witnessed them commit grievous acts of violence," he told her directly, holding said hands out to her but was careful not to touch her with them, "and they have done many, many more heinous deeds both under My Lord Borgia's orders and those of other employers. I met your brother outside your mother's villa where I was ordered to go to assassinate you and the rest of your family. Trust me when I tell you, milady, that if I had not come upon your brother and seen myself reflected in him, then you, your mother and your brother would all be dead and your father would no longer be the Pope of Rome. When I saw his face, I saw raw ambition, perilous ruthlessness and one who would win at any cost and I knew in an instant that we both would be best served if I changed my allegiance to your family."

"That was all it took? One look at Cesare's face?" Lucrezia asked, mystified by her brother's effect on this hardy man before her.

"Indeed it was. From that day on, I have been loyal to _his _cause and no one else's. I was born in Forli and I shall not enter into the details of my childhood and youth, Lady Lucrezia, however, I will tell you what my lord knows, which is that it was my hand that stole the life from my father. He was a vile creature – I cannot even bring myself to call him a man – and he was deserving of such an end."

Upon learning such an intimate detail, Lucrezia put her arm to his shoulder and coaxed him to walk back to the couch with her and sit beside her as he continued his tale of woe and wretchedness.

As he sat, he took up his story once more, "When I was a young man in Forli, I sought women out and everyone attributed that to my father's blood coursing through my veins, yet once I discovered what an uncouth man my father was and the horrors he inflicted on those he took to his bed or violated without mercy," he had to stop for a moment as he tried to staunch the tears that were threatening to flow from his eyes as he recalled the death of his sister, "I have never been with a woman since that day, my lady."

"Truly? You have not taken a woman since your youth? I cannot believe that! It goes against everything I know of men."

"I will not deceive you, my lady. It is the simple truth. That is not to say, however, that my appetite has not been satisfied elsewhere."

Micheletto knew that the moment of truth had come upon him. He knew not if Lucrezia Borgia had ever had reason to know that some men favour the company of others in a romantic way (or in his case, at least a sexual way) but he knew from Cesare's fury at Giovanni Sforza and the state of Lucrezia when she returned to her family from Pesaro that she had suffered greatly at the hands of men on account of their sexual desires and unquenchable sexual appetite which did not heed her unwillingness or – in the case of her first husband – lack of preparation for the conjugal bed and its activities. Therefore, he deemed her a kindred spirit and an acceptable person in whom he might confide his sexual deviance.

"I have always loathed those men who force women to open their legs and subdue them with violence, thus I went elsewhere to find my pleasure. There is no man who would not be able to fend off another who desired to _take _him. I have laid with men, my lady, even though it is against the code written in The Bible, but I have always thought that sodomy would be regarded lightly when I am judged by the Almighty alongside the wealth of other crimes and sins I have committed."

"You are a sodomite, Micheletto?" She asked calmly but her eyes glinted with curiosity.

He nodded curtly, reluctant to explain his trysts with Augustino and Pascal to her in more detail, but he knew that as a Borgia she would not allow such a revelation to pass unchallenged and unquestioned.

"How many men have you…" she fumbled for the right term, "been with?"

"Only two, my lady," he replied, glad that his list of sexual partners was barely that, "and I doubt I shall ever have another, for one is in Forli and has recently taken a wife and does not wish to be an adulterer as well as a sodomite and the other is 'the sacrifice' you mentioned. I took him into my room and maintained him after he followed me to Rome from Milan, but it turned out he was in the pay of Caterina Sforza and King Frederick and was feeding information concerning my lord's movements to Naples. I discovered him and it was how your brother managed to go to Naples in order to rescue you, but you had already succeeded in that endeavour."

Lucrezia frowned, "Micheletto, I know this already. You are telling my story now. I only wish to hear of your life and experiences. There is no need to relate my own life to me."

"Forgive me, I meant no offence," he apologised but then did as he was bid, "once I had realised that the one man whom I could have truly loved, as I had already began to open my heart to him, was by my side because Rufio had paid him to be there, my heart broke. I was burdened by the guilt that through his association with me, My Lord Borgia's plans and actions were related to his enemies, so I did what I thought was my last task for him and killed Pascal, my lover, and took my leave of the city and his service."

Micheletto had to pause in his tale, for the lady beside him was quite beside herself and was weeping into a handkerchief, "My lady, are you well? Shall I fetch someone? Surely, you do not shed your tears for me?"

The wailing woman threw herself onto his shoulder and clung tightly to him as she tried to calm herself along with letting Micheletto know her heart was also weeping for him as her eyes were. He was shocked at the usually strong and unyielding Borgia woman as she bawled over him, but all he found he could do was pat her on the back uncertainly until she managed to stop.

Once she assured him that she had quite recovered from her outburst and nothing was amiss, she settled back into the couch, her hand resting on her enlarged stomach and invited her companion to tell her more.

"It turned out that my time in your family's service was not to be over so soon, so I was sent back by Signor Machiavelli and here I will remain now until My Lord Borgia decides I must go."

She nodded, understanding that his story had reached its conclusion and satisfied that she knew him much better after it, rose from her position beside him and waddled carefully over to her bed. She would not confess it but hearing his story had greatly tired her and she felt the need to rest awhile although the sun was still high in the Italian sky and bearing down on those who were still going about their day.

As she was falling asleep, she looked once more at Micheletto and murmured just loudly enough so he could hear, "I think we are firm friends now, Micheletto. It cannot be disputed."

"I would not think to disagree with you, Lady Lucrezia." He said back to her, returning to the foot of her bed, where he was accustomed to sit while she was sleeping.

"Lady Lucrezia, my friend," she prompted gently, "and do not forget it."

"Very well, Lady Lucrezia, my friend." He replied with a serene smile turning up the corners of his lips.


	22. The Final Spur

**Chapter XXII - The Final Spur**

Caterina lay in her bed alone with only a book of old Italian folktales to amuse and entertain her, her stomach was so large that over the past few weeks she had seen progressively less and less of her lower body. It was torture for the masculine and vivacious woman languishing in bed and being allowed no visitors save for the father of her unborn child, who was decidedly not a comfort to her, more a hindrance and an annoyance, in truth and her incompetent maidservant.

Lodovico did insist on his rights, however, and until she expelled the infant, there was nothing she felt able to do to rid herself of his cumbersome presence in her castle. At least he could be relied upon to courier messages to and from Rufio, who had recently returned from his mammoth journey around the country in their endeavour to surround themselves with allies from other Italian cities and families who had thus far not joined themselves to either cause in the dissent between the Sforza family and the Borgia papacy.

Rufio was not so tolerant of his mistress' one-time lover. He had secretly asked her through the imbecile himself if it would be admissible to dispense with Lodovico before the child was born, but she had dismissed his idea instantly, yet he had been consoled when she had later informed him that Lodovico's death would be a welcome solution to his constant interference in Forli but only after his child came into the world. In the meantime, he had other matters to concern him, namely Cesare Borgia and his recent army movements. The French army was making its way steadily towards Forli and Florence had turned away as the army had passed through their province, though considering Machiavelli and Cesare Borgia's friendship, such an event wasn't surprising. It was worrying the master assassin that the army was a day away and he had no notion as to what the Borgia's plan was, for it was rumoured and a messenger even brought a letter written in the hand of Cesare Borgia himself that the Duke had no intention of moving against them until after the births of both the Sforza bastard and the next Borgia one.

"Paola," Caterina called hoarsely, "help me up, it is imperative that I meet with Rufio!"

Her infuriatingly slender slip of a handmaid hurried into the bedchamber from the adjoining bower and looked petrified before her mistress, "But, my lady, it is forbidden for a lady in confinement to be visited or to visit any except her husband…or the father of her child."

Lady Sforza did not miss her maid's slip of the tongue, but she was not in the mood for tangling with an insignificant and common maid when her gut was telling her that she needed to find Rufio and find out for herself what was going on around her. It was yet another one of those moments when she would have loved to be a man, for society never dictated that men must be caged in their rooms for months on end. Men were permitted to keep in contact with the outside world when their wives (or women) were gestating their sprogs. The pregnancy was bringing forth all of her pent up feelings and resentment towards men.

"I will not tell you again, girl," she threatened, eyes wide and full of rage, "you will help me into a gown and then you will escort me to the great hall and remain there with me until I am satisfied that all is well with Forli and my army. Then, you will bring me back to my room and leave me in peace to rest! Do I make myself quite clear, or is it your wish to return to whatever hovel you call a home with your horde of siblings and your inept chit of a mother?"

Paola paled in response to that onslaught, though her "inept chit of a mother" had birthed and raised a host of children and the young fifteen year old girl had grown accustomed to the mood swings and tantrums of an expecting woman, so she tried not to take Lady Sforza's words too personally, yet the malice and sheer hatred pouring from her eyes was difficult to ignore.

She only nodded in response and proceeded to assist the unwieldy woman into one of her dresses. Once she was adequately attired, they made their slow journey to the great hall where Rufio would be in counsel with the lieutenants of the Forli army discussing the ramifications of Cesare Borgia's directions to his vast army now perched on the borders of Sforza country, only a day's march from the walls of Forli Castle.

They came upon the group of men huddled together deep in conversation clearly discussing something of great importance.

"What is happening, Rufio? Tell me now!" She ordered as she was lowered into a chair by Paola, who then retreated into a corner.

"My lady," they chorused, all bowing simultaneously.

Rufio continued, "The Borgia army is only a day away from the city, milady, but we have received no word that they intend to lay siege to Forli. Indeed, the Duke of Valentinois has not sent any letters expressing a renewed desire to attack. We are going to send a messenger to parley with them but until the rider gets back, we have no way of knowing what to prepare for or do, especially with your ladyship in confinement."

Caterina glared at him, "Send the rider immediately and let it be my nephew, Francisco, as the representative of our family. I will write the letter personally if one of you will take my dictation."

The letter sent to Vitelezzo Vitelli, who was in command of the Duke's armed forces, which was delivered by Francisco Sforza read thus:

_To Vitelezzo Vitelli, Lord of Montone, Città di Castello, Monterchi and Anghiari, from Her Ladyship, Caterina Sforza Riario, Countess of Forli and Lady of Imola,_

_My sincerest congratulations on your recent commission, which I hope keeps you in the best of spirits. As you are placed so high above the other lords of the Romagna by His Grace the Duke of Valentinois, Cesare Borgia, I can only surmise that he holds you very high in his esteem. _

_We would, however, remind the Lord of Montone that once he took wine at our humblest of tables and supped on our meat and bread. Further, he was once considered an ally and friend of the noble Sforza family as the Vitelli family regarded us in turn, so I seek to respectfully remind his lordship that Forli still regards him kindly and would not be seen as his enemy._

_I would therefore counsel My Lord Vitelli to keep the army in his command stationed away from my city's walls, for they will never be breached by any in the pay of the Borgia bastards. The army of Forli is not afraid to defend its city or its people within, so I would advise His Lordship to divert the Duke's army from its current trajectory and suggest to Cesare Borgia – as I have advised you – to take his mercenary army elsewhere._

Expediently, Francisco was dispatched on a white horse bearing a white flag and the standard of his great and gallant family to the gigantic array of blue and white tents just on the outskirts of the village of Santa Sofia, which lay on the border of Forli-Cesena. He made a striking figure: a young Adonis on a white gelding riding towards his enemy's camp at a great speed, a white flag of truce and a pennant sporting the Sforza coat of arms of a crowned black imperial eagle and a blue serpent swallowing a red Saracen. He was certain that in that moment he was bringing honour and glory to his father, the Lady Caterina's brother, the late Gian Galeazzo Sforza, whom _il Moro_ had so ruthlessly murdered, as he had seen that Caterina's own boy, Benito, met his untimely end. He owed his life to his aunt who had seen that he and his siblings were plucked from Milan to save them from their savage uncle's ambition, so he was proud to obey her in this endeavour to ensure that Forli remained safe.

As two sentries rode up to his horse, he announced loudly, "I am Francisco Sforza, nephew to Lady Caterina. I come under a white flag as you see so conduct me to His Lordship Vitelli, for I come bearing a letter of the highest import from my lady aunt, the Countess."

"Very well, my lord," one of the guards replied curtly, with manners in his words but none in his tone, "come with us then, if it please you."

Soon after, Francisco entered the commander's tent feeling rather more trivial than he had felt as he rode into the camp. There was an assembly of uncouth and travel-worn men standing around a table with a model of what the young Sforza recognised as the outer walls of Forli arguing as to what method would be the optimum to breach the thick defences of the city.

"My lords," he greeted, bowing low out of respect to the men whose names he knew not, "I come with a letter from the Countess of Forli."

"Give it here then, lad!" One of the men with jet black hair bellowed at him.

Francisco did not hesitate to hand over the note to the intimidating soldier who held his hand out impatiently, but was stunned when one of the other men chided Roberto Orsini for speaking thus to the son of the former and rightful Duke of Milan. He merely replied that Gian Galeazzo Sforza had been inconsequential and so was his son.

It was trying for the boy to stomach such insults to his family, especially to his beloved father, whom he had never really known, since he had spent most of his adult life in a grimy dungeon in the grand dining hall, permitted no access to his wife or progeny. He had learnt from Lodovico that some battles were not worth the fighting else he would have been put to death by the usurper for attempting to retake his birth right, as his father had.

The paper was read by Roberto Orsini quickly before he passed it to a leaner and more comely man (in Francisco's opinion) smiling with danger sneaking into his expression in the corners of his lips. When Roberto invited Vitelezzo to skim the letter from "the Tigress" as he referred to her so rudely in her kin's hearing, the lord commander of the army sat down to peruse the note and held his remarks back until he reached the end of the letter and observed young Francisco for a short time.

"We all knew that Lady Sforza had the stomach of a man and the guts of her father," Vitelezzo began, rising from his seat, "but sending this seems beneath the Countess, somehow."

"My apologies, Lord Vitelli," Francisco said uncertainly, "but I do not take your full meaning."

Vitelli guffawed obscenely at the young lad, "Well, it seems she may not know the proper courtesy to show to the leader of an army when it shows up on your doorstep, but I see that she has at least instructed you in the art of how to address your _superiors_."

"My aunt left her bedchamber to pen that letter to you, gentlemen," Francisco announced proudly, addressing the floor, "so if you are as noble as she has claimed, then you will treat her words with the respect they deserve and give me your response and then I will return to Forli."

"The young one has spunk, Vitelli!" Paolo Orsini, Roberto's older brother said.

"Indeed he does, Paolo…more spunk than he should have considering his parentage and present situation. His father was a cowardly puppet who let that buffoon Lodovico Sforza rise to power in Milan and fuck with all of us and our fortunes, his aunt is a bastard just like us, just like the children of His Holiness, yet she maintains she is somehow better and above them. I think we are all superior to the Borgias but never once have I claimed it was on account of their illegitimacy, it is because they are _Spanish_! Caterina Sforza is a whore as much as Lucrezia Borgia is. Lucrezia Borgia screws stable boys in the straw and Sforza takes her enemy into her bed and when she needs a child because she held her skirts up and showed an entire army her cunt saying that she could have ten more sons, she invites a page from Naples to plough into her fields!"

By this point, Francisco had heard all he wished to from this upstart of a lord, who evidently did not possess even an ounce of chivalry or inherent goodness. Before he knew what was happening in the tent, Francisco had bounded forward from his place and instinctively sheathed his dagger deep in Vitelezzo Vitelli's gut spewing blood and guts everywhere around the man who immediately fell to the floor where already a pool of his own gore had formed.

The other _condottieri_ stood in stunned silence as they tried to take in what had just happened in the last few seconds. Once they had pulled themselves together and back into the present, some turned to Vitelezzo to assist the unmistakeably dying man, while others drew on the unexpected, yet effective, assassin only to find that the guilty party had already fled the scene.

Francisco could not believe what he had just done. It was not like him to be so ready to use his blade, but once he had done the deed, he had no option but to give in to his natural instincts and take flight. Fortunately for the culprit, his steed was tethered outside the tent so he swiftly mounted and galloped off to the safety of Forli.

None of Cesare's deputies were concerned with the absconding assassin but with their failing comrade who was only seconds away from death. Once their brother-in-arms was dead, it occurred to Gian Paolo Baglioni that a rider would have to be sent to Rome to inform Cesare that his ordained leader had been killed by one of Caterina Sforza's relatives and that this turn of events might be the final spur to war between Borgia and Sforza.


	23. The Die is Cast

**Author's Note: **

The next few chapters are going to be short but fast in keeping with the "Lord of the Rings" style finale that happened on the show. This next sequence is going to be my take on the last episode of the show, but it is NOT going to be the end of this story…I have big plans for this story and much still to cover! So, please leave reviews after you have read, as I do so like reading them.

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**Chapter XXIII - The Die is Cast**

Cesare was sitting in his private solar drawing up plans for the papal army at his father's behest. It vexed him infinitely that his father, who constantly declined to give him supremacy over the papal armies, still insisted that he organise the army as best he could, for he still was _gonfaloniere_ of the army. At least he could be reassured that _his _army was encamped near Forli and awaited his word to begin the siege of the Sforza stronghold.

He was quite content to bide his time before making his final big push against Caterina Sforza. The forthcoming births of his child and Caterina's were a good enough reason not to move too soon and force her hand. He knew that Lady Sforza's time must be drawing close and Lucrezia was only a few weeks behind her and he could not express how excited he was to meet the result of their love.

It surprised him when suddenly he heard a loud commotion emanating from down the corridor leading to his apartments. His first thought was that something had happened to Lucrezia or that his child was pressing, but there was too much noise and urgency in the steps he could hear approaching for it to be something as natural as a woman gone into labour.

"My lord Borgia, My lord Borgia," an urgent voice boomed, "you are called to Santa Sofia immediately! There has been a grave crime committed against you and yours."

Cesare bolted up to open the door for the breathless and red messenger who instantly related to him the tale of Vitelli's brutal murder at the hand of Francisco Sforza. Once he had caught the general gist of what had befallen his lieutenant, he hastened to don his armour and scrawl a quick note to Lucrezia informing her that he was deeply sorry but something had arisen that meant he had to ride with the speed of God to his army. Fuck Caterina and her unborn bastard child! Vitelli's death had to be avenged without mercy and without hesitation.

As he rode with all his might towards his army's campsite, his golden armour shining bright in the hot, midday Italian sun and his scarlet cloak billowing behind him as he sped along the dusty road, he felt as though he was riding hard towards his destiny. He had waited for this day since he was a young boy playing at soldiers in the hills of Spain and after years of struggling to find his father's approval and obtain the control of the papal armies, he had found himself his own army that rode at his command and in his name alone and that success had very little to do with his father.

Once he reached the commander's tent having ridden through the parades of tents to thunderous applause and soldiers bellowing "hurrah" at him, he was greeted by the sombre bows of his surviving _condottieri_.

"Your Grace," Colonna began, using Cesare's newest title Duke of Valentinois, "thank you for hurrying to us. We did not wish to proceed without you present and regardless of that, you have not seen fit to involve us in your plans, so we were not aware what your next plans were for the army."

Cesare was swiftly becoming tired of his favourites dying or disappearing on him. He could not hold Micheletto culpable for being absent from his side on this occasion, for he had the crucial task of guarding his most valued treasures: Lucrezia and his child, however, Vitelli's untimely demise was an irritating setback to say the least. It had required him to abandon Lucrezia when she needed him to be with her most and put unchecked and uncounselled plans into play ahead of time.

"We move on Forli within the day. Is the army prepared for action? Surely between you, you could have surmised that I would be avenging our friend, Vitelli's death? The siege begins tomorrow, gentlemen! Polish your armour and sharpen your blades, for the Sforza army's blood will stain the grass before too long!"

The group of second sons and bastards were impressed with their Borgia leader's inspiring talk even though there were no troops to hear it, only them and they were no great fans of the Borgia cause, but none of them were so senseless as to deem any cause but that of the Borgia Pope and his bastard son hopeful.

They immediately left the tent to rally their own respective troops and prepare for the battle tomorrow. When Cesare was once more alone, he spared a thought for Caterina Sforza whose foolhardy and idiotic young nephew had tipped the balance in the power struggle and stalemate. Even her bravery and fortitude did not stretch to confidence in the face of a vengeful army vying for Sforza blood when she was weak and vulnerable in the final days of her pregnancy. It was a shame for the Tigress of Forli, really, that she would have to birth her cub in the midst of a battle raging around her.

"Enough of this," he said gruffly to himself, "it does no good to think of these things now. If the bitch wanted an easy life, she should have stayed away from papal politics. Besides, she has given me the perfect opportunity and I would be a fool to throw it away."

He threw a die that he had come across on the table where the men had been playing at chance and was satisfied when it landed on a six, "The die is cast and the players gather to see where the game goes…and who will be the victor."


	24. The Fight for Forli (Rufio)

**Author's Note: **

Don't know if any of you have heard the good news that Showtime will be releasing an ebook entitled "The Borgia Apocalypse" to 'properly' conclude the series, but this chapter is an offering of thanks to the executives and Neil Jordan for chucking us this small bone.

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**Chapter XXIV - The Fight for Forli (Rufio)**

Lady Sforza stood behind Rufio clutching onto Paola's arm that was shaking with the fatigue of holding her heavy mistress up for such a length of time while the expectant woman watched as her master assassin beat her nephew to within an inch of his sanity. Caterina had always proved that she could be ruthless, even to her family, when she was crossed and she had never been so betrayed by one so close to her and so unexpectedly too…

"He has taken all he can, milady," Rufio informed his mistress as he stayed his hand, "best he is taken back to his rooms now. We have other things to take care of. Cesare Borgia himself is now marching on us and we are unprepared for his assault."

Caterina was proud that she was born of the Sforza bloodline and its intrinsic pride and fortitude. She was respected throughout Italy for being a woman of steel and as strong as any man, so when her legs finally gave out and she sank to the cold, marble floor sobbing from the core of her very soul, her present company were stunned into silence and had no notion of how they ought to respond to her sorrow or comfort her.

"My lady, you must return to your chambers," Paola advised gently, trying to wrest Caterina from the stone's embrace, "it is unhealthy for you and the child to be so distressed so near your time."

Rufio concurred with the maidservant and gripped Caterina tightly on the waist and pulled her slowly to her feet so that she could be shepherded back to her bed and he could focus entirely on defending Forli against the fast-approaching Borgia threat without being concerned for his lady's condition if she chose to attend council.

"I will take care of everything, my lady," Rufio reassured her as she headed for the door, "do not fret. I will send for the midwife and physician immediately to attend you, for – if you will permit me to say this – you seem tired, Lady Sforza and I would not have you risk your health or that of the child for naught."

She had the energy only to nod in response. As she considered the inescapable onslaught of Cesare Borgia and his army and the upcoming attack on her body that her unborn child would be the cause of when it tried to enter the world, her mind travelled to Lodovico and how she had not seen nor heard anything of him in days.

"Has anyone seen Lodovico?" She asked with almost a hint of the natural sentiment that a mother-to-be carries for the father of her unborn babe.

"Yes," Rufio answered her brusquely, for he knew well that what he was about to tell her had the potential to wound her or at least severely disappoint her, "he is either in his chambers packing his affairs or in the stables trying to find a suitable horse on which he can ride to his freedom and safety. I am sorry, My Lady Sforza, but once we were made aware of the French army's progress he immediately announced his intentions to fly from Forli. We attempted to persuade him otherwise, but he was resolved to return to Naples."

Caterina smiled softly, unsurprised that the young man had taken flight at the first sign of danger. Truly, it saved her a great deal of trouble and time, for no longer did she have to plan how to sever her ties with Lodovico and expel him from her castle, but she would be deceiving herself if she thought that there was not a part of her heart that was weeping at the thought that her child would never set eyes on its father, however small said part was, it was certainly there.

Once the womenfolk had gone, Rufio went back to the great chamber to get an update on how the army was and how quickly it was moving towards them and how long they had before Forli was besieged.

The discussions went on for hours until a great uproar was heard from both inside and outside the thick walls of Forli. Instantly, the men in counsel ceased their bickering and strode over to the vast windows that looked out onto the plains surrounding the stronghold and all with baited breath, witnessed a great host of blue and gold on horseback and on foot swarm from the forest to completely surround the city.

The commoners who had succeeded in making it to Forli were rushing through the narrow streets heading for home, as if blockading themselves in their quaint, little houses was going to safeguard them from the invaders, creating much more of a ruckus than the entire horde outside the city walls. Rufio knew in that moment that it was all over for his lady and her kinsmen…and by extension, him too.

He had given his life to Caterina Sforza and her family, doing their bidding no matter how degrading or loathsome the task was, but he would be treated as her most loyal and most dangerous accomplice and would be put to death, though the Countess herself would probably be spared on account of her station and value as a symbol of the Borgia's God-given supremacy over the aristocracy of Italy.

He heard as one of his fellows turned to a page standing white-faced in the doorway and hollered that Lady Sforza should be told that the army was now knocking on the gates of the city and she must prepare herself for what was about to come. They would raise as good a defence as they could, but everyone knew that even their best was no match against Cesare Borgia and would not give much delay to his taking the city and all within, but the brief amount of time that could be earned from such an endeavour could at least give Rufio time enough to ensure that Caterina and a small retinue of medics and midwives and her handmaiden fled to safety.

The lady, once again in her shift and abed, knew that something had gone even more awry from the moment she heard the heavy and hurried footsteps getting ever louder as Rufio came nearer to her bedchambers. All etiquettes and traditions were obviously not to be heeded in such circumstances, so nobody even thought to suggest that he wait outside while she clothed herself more suitably to receive a man not of her family.

"My Lady, the time has come," Rufio puffed, breathless from his long sprint to her rooms, "you must ready yourself and Paola to flee the city while you have the chance. It will not be long before Cesare Borgia gains entry to the city and I would not have you fall into his hands in your present condition and if you would be wise, you know that you do not wish that either. Your only option is to leave Forli behind and head for sanctuary."

Paola was impressively fast. The way she reacted and commenced ordering the rest of the household around as though she were the Countess of Forli herself was outstanding. Usually, such impudence would have made the real Countess seethe with fury, but she was more concerned with her own heavy movements and how she seemed to be slowing down Paola's efficient process of uprooting the chamber of her confinement.

They were quickly given saddled horses to ride from the besieged city and Rufio very nearly was brought to tears when he caught sight of the pained expression on Caterina Sforza's face as she was pitched onto a steed with little ceremony and what seemed to be no care. As he caught her eye she nodded to him as a sign of respect and gratitude and he returned the gesture pushing all his wishes of good fortune and good health into a small inclination of his head.

When Caterina was arranged clumsily on a horse and tried to urge it to take a few steps forward, the foolish beast lowered its head and it was a miracle that Caterina was blessed with such a sound seat, for any rider of less distinction would have tumbled from the saddle, yet even sporting immense girth, she managed to remain atop the creature, but it became apparent that someone would need to ride behind her to steady her and the horse on their journey.

"Adriano!" Rufio roared, growing tired of the delay.

"Yes, sir?" A young but well-built stable lad replied, coming out from the shadows into the light.

Without a word of warning, Rufio manoeuvred the boy next to Caterina and her horse and hoisted up his leg so he could raise him up to sit behind her, "You will be riding with My Lady. You will ensure that she and her child make it safely to whatever destination she chooses and above all, you will not leave her company until I – and only _I_ – instruct you to do so in person! Am I quite clear?"

Everyone, not least Adriano, was staggered by the intensity of Rufio's tone and his sharpness when issuing orders that were intended to protect his mistress, but when the man pressed a dagger into the open palm of the boy and whispered to him that he had to do whatever necessary, even die if the need arose, to guard Caterina Sforza.

Rufio watched as the retinue of his beloved mistress rode out of Forli through a gate that led directly into the woods on the opposite side to where the French army had sprung from. It was a risky step, but the army were all preoccupied with their bombardment of the main gates. It was his only chance to see Caterina escape the grasp of Cesare Borgia and he would show her no mercy and even less to her child, which Rufio just knew would be born before they could reach a place of safety.

"Damn Cesare Borgia and his fucking army!" Rufio muttered to himself with anger and spite hammering out into the world with every word before he sped off to see how the defences were holding up. Caterina's survival depended on them…


	25. The Fight for Forli (Cesare)

**Chapter XXV - The Fight for Forli (Cesare)**

The army was lying in wait to storm the city as the cannons bombarded ground before the city gates with no mercy. Micheletto had given him a tip that the ground just in front of the main gate was weak to cannon fire as it stood on the old Roman foundations of the city and if the ground was battered to the extent that it gave way, the gate and its walls would follow suit. He had been proud of his henchman in that moment and glad that he had returned to his service, for as he had said to his mother when Micheletto had quit Rome, the man knew what he needed and how to act before even he did and without being ordered too. He knew that though he was absent from this fight, Micheletto was the one who would hasten their victory with his wise and prudent counsel.

"My lord Borgia! We have received grave news!" A pageboy announced as he bounded into his tent.

His eyes widened with anticipation, "What is it? Have the walls fallen? I didn't hear a thing…"

The boy shook his head, "No, my lord, Lady Sforza has been sighted!"

It had been a great source of disappointment and rage when he had been informed by the lips of a spy they had acquired within the city, that Caterina and a few of her servants had taken their leave of the city and ridden to safety. It reminded him of Milan and how Lodovico Sforza had declined to stay and be conquered with honour but instead had taken Benito and hurried into hiding. Were all Sforzas made of the same craven mettle?

"Ready my horse then!"

He was not going to allow her to escape him this time. It mattered not that she was with child, she could birth the babe anywhere, be it on the road or in a cell in the Castel Saint'Angelo. He just knew she would be in his keeping by the time the sun set this day.

Maestro d'Alvino, the Master of the Artillery, had reassured him that they could manage the salvo without his supervision so he was entirely at liberty to pursue the fugitives with a small guard, leaving his siege in the hands of his subordinates who _would_ get him the city before he returned or there would be hell to pay. He was not interested in Forli, which was a meagre and bare city, but for its army, its weapons and its indomitable mistress. He only wanted that woman subjugated and brought to his heel and punishment to be exacted on Francisco for the murder of Vitelli.

"Tell Signor Baglioni that he has the command of the army and that it would be in his best interest to ensure that the man, Rufio, is taken alive. I know that they have met and therefore it falls to him to make sure that I can make use of Rufio and his many talents in the future should I wish."

Cesare called his guard to him and they galloped off northwards on the trail of the Sforza lady and her companions. He reasoned that her entourage would not be able to move with the same speed as he would as she would have to ride carefully and pause as often as she could.

He rode for three, maybe four, hours, taking no care for his horse or the men who followed him. All he could see in his mind's eye was Caterina and her billowing skirts ahead of him, encouraging him to hasten his pace and trap her and force her back to Rome to bend the knee to the Holy Father and hand over the keys to her city to him.

"My lord, what is that up ahead?" One of his guards shouted from behind him.

Cesare noticed a flurry of violet silk in amongst the vibrant green and brown of the forest and replied in a hushed voice, not able to believe that they had actually managed to catch up with the fleeing party, "It is them. Swords out, gentlemen, show no mercy, kill all but Lady Sforza. She is not to be harmed. If any of you touch a hair on her head," he dared, "it will be the end of you. Do I make myself quite clear?"

Once his small tracking party had murmured their comprehension of their orders and grumbled their assent, they drew their swords from their scabbards with a harsh, steely whistle, which seemed to echo through the woodland right into the hearing of the Sforza group, though too late for them to do anything but stand and fight a battle they knew they had no chance of emerging victorious and unscathed.

They quaked into the ground as Cesare and his cavalry bore down upon them, steel flying through the air cutting down bodies as though they were merely wheat in a field. The party was diminished until it numbered only two: Lady Sforza and the rider on the saddle behind her. Cesare had caught her eyes as one of his soldiers had run his blade through Paola's midriff swiftly.

Cesare called to his men, "Go back to the army! Leave me at once!"

While the other riders sped away from the scene of the massacre, Cesare spurred his horse after his quarry only to see that she was still in his sights, her horse grazing as though nothing was amiss and her companion pacing up and down in front of her as she lay at the bottom of a large oak. As he neared the pair, he instantly realised what had occurred to force Caterina from her horse and her pageboy with her.

"Dear God in Heaven!" He breathed in fright.

Adriano rushed in front of his charge and with shaking, tremulous hands raised his quaint dagger.

"Do not come at me, boy," Cesare warned as he gracefully dismounted with his hands splayed out, "I will not harm you. _You _need to tend to Lady Sforza."

Unfortunately, the boy was too soaked up in the waters of his own fear that he could not comprehend the Lord Borgia's advice and with a childish, tearful roar, he bounded forwards, dagger poised to gut and as Caterina screamed, he got within arm's reach of Cesare and was spun round with immense velocity and the practiced Borgia hand manoeuvred the youth round so that the dagger did not impale the intended victim but its bearer instead.

"What have you done?" Caterina thundered as she gripped her sides.

It was in that moment when Adriano's limp and bleeding body plummeted to the floor that both Borgia and Sforza realised that they were quite alone and a baby was making its way into the world ever more quickly and only Cesare Borgia was present to help Caterina Sforza deliver her child.


	26. New Plans

**Author's Note: **

I am a cruel, cruel writer, I know because I have left Forli for a chapter and have returned to Rome for a short spell, just to mess with you. In the show, I am convinced that the great battle would never have been done straight through, so you can blame the writers and their talent for jumping about Italy for what I'm doing! Please do leave me a review (or two!) regarding what you think, thank you in advance.

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**Chapter XXVI - New Plans**

As his arrow coursed through the air with a whip and a whistle, Gioffre stood by and observed as it hit an outer ring of the target with a forlorn sigh, "Holy Father, as you see, I have no talent for this, so I would ask you to be expedient and tell me quickly what it is you require of me so that I can go back to my book in my study."

Rodrigo smiled too sweetly for Gioffre's liking, "Well, since you insist, my son, we would have you take up the position of _gonfaloniere_ of our army."

His youngest son was stunned. Never had his father intimated that he would be destined for a military career, for Cesare and Juan before him had always vowed that they would be soldiers. He had always imagined he would live out his days as a scholar or a second son (for when Cesare was named as priest, he eschewed all rights to inherit Borgia property) who would be granted lordship over one of the Borgia family's lesser estates.

"Father, what are you thinking?" He blurted out, without thinking himself.

The Pope sniggered, "Gioffre, my boy, you are of age now and as such, you can be of use to your family," he saw his son's expression turn and that he was about to interrupt him, "and though you have expressed your desire not to be remarried – a privilege we will grant you – you can still serve this family."

The youngest Borgia boy hung his head, wondering if there would ever be a point in his life where his father would not expect his children to bring more power and land and money to the family that he ran. Further, with Lucrezia in her confinement and Cesare waging war on Caterina Sforza without his father's consent, he was the only one of Rodrigo Borgia's brood who was still able to be manipulated by his overbearing father.

"I wouldn't actually have to go to war, though, I mean, Cesare has his own army, he can do all the fighting."

"Your brother does have his own army, but is has been made clear to us that we can no longer depend on our eldest son to prioritise the interests of our family and this papacy above those of the French king and himself."

Gioffre's thoughts swam to his brother. He had been the son who had lost the most and suffered the greatest through their father's ambitious and callous journey to St. Peter's throne. He had never desired the cloth and he was forced to endure the merciless taunts and jibes of Juan. When his favourite brother returned from Forli, he would have to ask him just how he found the wherewithal to release himself from the tethers of his family and father, as it seemed his father had found another child to turn into his errand boy.

Cesare had been his hero all his life. He had looked up to him, gone to him for advice and it was his older brother who had first taught him how to ride a horse. Now, when Gioffre needed him most to get out of a scrape, he wasn't there. After discovering the breakdown of his marriage to Sancia, one of his main reasons for returning to Rome had been that he longed for Cesare's counsel and company, which he had deeply missed while he was in Squillace.

"Holy Father," he began warily, touching his father's shoulder gently, "I am greatly honoured by your appointment but I would like to consider my position first before I commit myself to the Papal Army. I have not yet decided whether or not I will be returning to Squillace, which is still my dukedom, after all."

The Pope had decreed in the Papal Bull that had been written up that all of Sancia's lands, titles and fortunes were to be Gioffre's as she was the adulterous party in the marriage, thus he kept his title of Duke of Squillace but she was to be known only as the Duke of Mantua's mistress, though Italy was a land where such a title was not as offensive as it certainly was in the other kingdoms of Europe. Although its original noble had been stripped of the title of Squillace, Gioffre still felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility for the area that he had called his home for the past few years of his life and he was glad of that sentiment now when it served well as an excuse to fend off his father.

"Of course, of course," his father concurred with his usual tone of false agreement, "you must attend to your estate, but we would have you with us, your family, where you ought to be, huh?"

The son nodded to his father, unwilling to press the matter when it would yield no better result for him and would succeed only in getting his father riled up and annoyed that yet another child was starting to fly the nest and abandon the parent. He would bide his time until Cesare came back from Forli, which – if reports were to be believed – would not be too distant an event.


	27. The Fight for Forli (Caterina)

**Author's Note:**

All I have to say is please forgive me for my crude knowledge of obstetrics in this chapter which is the last based on the series finale and I hope you enjoy this chapter. If I don't say so myself, it's a belter! Please do write me reviews after you've read.

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**Chapter XXVII - The Fight for Forli (Caterina)**

"Have you lost your stupid, bastard Borgia mind?"

"There is no use yelling at me, madam," Cesare replied coolly, "we will just have to make do and do our best with the situation at hand."

Caterina was in no humour to have Cesare Borgia preach at her about "the situation at hand", which – incidentally – was his fault. She could feel the familiar pains of labour. She had started to feel the twinges just after she had ridden out of Forli, but it would have been folly to have stopped that early. She would have been in enemy hands much sooner had she lain down to birth her child at the earliest signs of childbirth.

"I take it you know how this is going to work?"

Caterina's eyes darted to her companion, showing a jumble of emotions: fear, amazement, pain and weakness. She could not believe that because of one stupid mistake done by one foolish, imbecile of a boy, she was about to give birth to her child in the middle of a forest with only Cesare Borgia to assist her. The idea made her chuckle faintly.

"What is funny, milady?" Cesare asked perplexed.

"If Francisco hadn't murdered Vitelli, I would be in my bedchamber right now and surrounded by servants and midwives and physicians," she listed, her voice growing ever more distressed and her brow growing ever sweatier, "not stranded here with you! I am no weak-willed woman born in a shack, who lived all her life answering to men and cooking meals and sweeping floors. I am Caterina…Caterina Sforza! And I cannot believe that this is the end that I am going to meet!"

Cesare in turn realised that before him was not the woman who had taken him to her bed and kept the Pope of Rome on his toes for years, but just a woman who was in the middle of the most frightening time a woman could experience in her life and was there without friends or family to be at her side whispering words of comfort to her and holding her hand. He had to forget all feelings of enmity or rivalry and merely be there for her and the child that was not going to have an easy arrival into the world by any means.

His attention was recaptured when Caterina fell back onto the roots of the tree and let out a resounding scream, "My lord Borgia, you need to get me out of my gown."

"I cannot do that while you are lying down," Cesare mumbled.

"Then help me up, you pitiful excuse!" She retorted snidely.

Those words echoed round his head with excruciating familiarity. His thoughts briefly journeyed to Lucrezia as he unlaced her already let-out black and orange gown. She would be close to her time now and was probably miserable and sore in bed with only Micheletto to keep her company. He sighed as he wished fleetingly that could be back in Rome at her bedside getting ready for his own child's birth instead of readying himself and the mother-to-be for the more imminent birth in his future.

"I don't think this is the appropriate moment for you to be sighing after me, my lord." Caterina chastised with a glint in her tearing eyes.

Cesare finally managed to get the bulky gown off her, leaving her in a plain white shift that left nothing to the imagination, not that Cesare had not seen her naked before. He stood over her and let her back down to the ground gently, though she still emitted a hearty groan when her tender back touched the cold, bumpy forest floor.

"I am sorry, I am trying my best," Cesare apologised, "but I do not know what I am doing. I have never seen a child born. I have only heard what my sister told me of Giovanni's birth."

"Well, what you need to do, my lord, is sit there," she instructed, pointing to the area between her spread legs, "and you need to help me push the child out."

"How?"

It vexed the pained woman that her only attendant seemed to have no grasp on what was required of him to get her and her unborn but coming child through the arduous childbirth that was already in progress.

"If he gets stuck, you must pull as I push. If he has the cord wrapped around his neck and cannot breathe, you must coax it off him. If I grow too weak or lose consciousness in my labour, then," her voice broke and she resisted the urge to break down, "then, you must use your blade and slice me so that he may live in my place. Do anything, _anything_ necessary to make sure my child lives, my lord Borgia. Swear that you will do so. Swear it!"

His purpose in coming to Forli to make war against Caterina Sforza was to bring her back to Rome bound in chains to kiss his father's ring, but if he were to give his parole to her that he would do anything and everything to ensure her child survived, then he might have only an infant to take back to Rome or if the worst were to come of this dire situation, he would have neither Sforza lady or Sforza babe to bring home with him.

"I give you my word, Lady Sforza." He had given his own lady and his own baby and how Lucrezia would have made the same plea for Giovanni's life and if her second labour proved taxing would implore her attendants to work for the child, so he could not in all faith deny Caterina that right to see that he who would deliver her child would strive for the baby's survival and give less value to that of the mother.

She could only nod as a contraction wracked her body and threatened to tear her in two. She bore down, realising that the child was nearer than she could have anticipated and she was losing her strength fast.

"There is not much time left, Cesare," she groaned, "you must be ready to take the child."

He nodded back to her already poised to accept the newly born baby into his waiting hands, "Then, have at it, my lady and push."

She gave it everything she had and more. By the time Cesare bellowed that he could see the head protruding from her, she was spent and had no more to give.

"My lady, do not give up! You are Caterina Sforza, the Tigress of Forli. You show me that you are made of sterner stuff and live to name your child!"

With her last, dying breath, she smiled and said softly to him, "At least I die Caterina Sforza, the Bitch of Forli here in the undergrowth and dirt and not in a cell at your disposal. Let it be known that I have died as I lived."

"No!" He shouted, with tears of grief, fury and sheer annoyance streaming from his tired eyes.

He took the briefest of moments to come to terms with the great lady's passing before he recalled his vow and saw that the baby's head was still swelling outside of its mother's body and looked to be living, so he took his dagger to hand and cleanly sliced her so that the child came forth and slickly landed in Cesare's outstretched hands.

Once Cesare had cleared its nose and mouth, cut the umbilical cord and gently swaddled the child in Caterina's discarded cloak, revelling in the feeling of the baby squirming in his arms, bawling now, wishing for the arms of its mother, although those arms would never embrace her (for it was a girl) in her life. She would have to be satisfied with wet-nurses and Cesare intended in that moment when he felt himself bond with the parentless child, that she should be his ward and daughter and that she would be placed under the guardianship of Lucrezia to be nursed alongside the other baby that would soon come into the world.

"We shall have to find a name for you, won't we, _mia cara_?" Cesare whispered dotingly to the babe, still wailing.

She had the most beautiful olive green eyes just like her mother had and she already had an enchanting head of brown hair that would grow into elegant, long tresses, he could just envision it, the beauty of this Sforza child. He already loved her in the few seconds that he spent trying to stop her tears and had decided upon a name for the sweet little cherub.

"Welcome to the world, Oriana Sforza," Cesare said proudly, rising from the site of her birth and the corpse of her mother, to head back to Caterina's horse and tether the mare to his own steed, "your name means sunrise and you are going to be a great Italian lady one day, just like your mother was, but you, sweetheart, will be _mine_."


	28. The Vice Chancellor

**Author's Note:**

Thanks ever so much for your reviews, particularly those written for the last chapter! I am glad you enjoyed that little episode too. Please do not stop leaving me criticism, whether it is positive or negative, as both help me as a writer to develop and the story to develop, though I will say I am against pandering to readers' wishes for every little detail. I do have my own plan for this story and let me reassure you, I cannot yet see how it will end and it will not be compliant with the history of the Borgias (that would be too grim!) so keep with the story…

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**Chapter XXVIII - The Vice Chancellor**

"_The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him."  
~ G.K. Chesterton_

Ascanio Sforza detested visiting the villa of Vannozza Cattaneo, the mistress of His Holiness and the mother to his repulsive brood of children, though he was forced to on this day. A messenger had just brought word from the siege at Forli that it had broken in the favour of the Borgia forces and that the city was theirs. He was relieved that there had been very few casualties of war and that other than the former commander, Vitelli, none of the Italian nobles who had flocked to Cesare's cause had fallen in battle since the front lines had taken most of the brunt of the Sforza defence, but it was said that the defence mounted by the city was feeble and pitiful.

He was speedily admitted into the heavily guarded town villa and found his way to the spacious and vibrant garden where the family were lounging, with the exception of the Lady Lucrezia, who would have to be told of her brother's victory by her mother.

"Ah, Vice Chancellor," the Pope greeted, "you have arrived just in time."

He was on a sofa, lying down with his hands tucked snugly behind his head and his mistress was sitting on a stool behind him with her arm draped over his chest as if protecting him and clutching him to her. What was more interesting – and by that, Sforza meant hilariously scandalous, even for the Borgia Pope – was that he was reclining topless with his youngest son opposite him dressed in the same way and his mistress was clad only in a light shift that was only just opaque enough to shield what remained of her modesty and virtue.

Ascanio still was at a loss as to what he had come in time for, so he asked blankly, "Forgive me, Holiness, I do not take your meaning."

As he reached the end of his question, a parade of culinary delights streamed from the kitchen, including roast venison, Italian bean stew, stuffed peppers and suckling pig. It was a feast for a king, ne, a feast for a Pope, but this was a Pope that could no longer afford such delicacies in his own palaces so he dined at his mistress' expense instead. Ascanio had always known Rodrigo Borgia to be a deplorable man, but this in a Pope was inexcusable!

"Think not of it," he replied, smiling as his family around him laughed, "what news have you, Cardinal?"

"I bring you word from Forli, Your Holiness. Your son, the Duke of Valentinois, has conquered the city and routed the Sforzas in their own castle. The word is that my cousin, Lady Sforza is dead and that yesterday, when she died, her daughter was placed into the hands of my lord Borgia and that he himself named her and has adopted her as his ward and own daughter. He is now riding back to Rome with the child so she may be christened in the Vatican and be raised and nursed alongside the Lady Lucrezia's child."

The Pope sat up, beguiled by the surprising news, "And my son put all of this in a letter?"

"Indeed, he did, Holiness. Though, he should arrive within the day, should you wish to question him more on the subject."

"Cardinal Sforza, does my daughter know of her brother's intentions for his new 'ward', as you call her?

Sforza despised the gall of the shamed woman for addressing the Vice Chancellor thus, but nevertheless, he answered with a civil tongue, "She has no knowledge of the news yet, _good_ lady. I had imagined that since none may enter her chamber of confinement save yourself, you would be so good as to relay the news to the Lady Lucrezia."

She merely nodded at him, understanding with her courtesan's ears, the insult veiled in his saccharin-sweet words that had won him the place of Vice Chancellor and served him well in consistory but won him none of her favour, though she did doubt that he sought her favour, as he did well enough from the favour of her lover. She would, however, go in the afternoon to Lucrezia and tell her how Cesare had fared and what – or rather _whom_ – he was bringing back as spoils from his conquest.

"We – all three of us – thank you, Cardinal Sforza for bringing this joyful news to us," the Pope declared, raising a cup of his treasured Malmsey wine, "but we do extend to you our most heartfelt condolences at the death of your cousin, may she finally rest in peace, and the loss of your family's estates in Forli."

"You are too gracious, Holiness." Ascanio said with sarcasm and a bow as he departed.


	29. Victory

**Chapter XXIX - Victory**

The journey was long and tiring. The road was cruel and merciless, yet still Cesare and his host of troops trudged and spurred their horses on, yearning to see the high walls of Rome looming from the horizon into view. Their journey was only supposed to take a day, but under the cold rain and the boisterous wind that accompanied them as they marched home, it was a slow-paced march.

Another hindrance to the army's homeward march was the coach that had only come from Forli. It carried a sacred charge, however, for it had within it, Oriana and her wet nurse, whom Cesare had found quickly among the throng of peasants from Forli who had been briefly imprisoned but had been hastily unbound when Cesare had returned to the city babe-in-tow.

The lieutenants of his army had been amazed when they had accompanied him to Naples to pry his sister from the hands of King Frederick and witnessed his affection for his darling sister, but the journey home from Forli was proving to be much more of a revelation regarding the hidden character of the black-hearted Cesare Borgia, who it seemed possessed something more than a heart of ice by how he tended so gently to the infant.

"It is said that she is truly of his blood, not that of some lowly pageboy!"

"I have heard it whispered that he killed the true child of Caterina Sforza because it was a boy and he could not have that, could he? So, he snatched up some peasant child and gave it the place of a changeling."

"My lord Orsini told his brother that the Duke only laid siege to Forli because the Countess had discovered he had a mistress who was with child herself and she took her hostage in recompense for the murder of her son, but Cesare killed her and rescued his own child."

The gossip was floating through the entire cavalcade of the army. Stories that painted the Borgia as a fiend circulated just as fiercely as those which portrayed him as a shining knight did and by the time of sunset, very few knew of the actual deeds and events that occurred at the siege. Cesare, in that moment, saw clearly just how it might happen that Juan's own story of war got so warped and the truth became so hidden. Perhaps he had been too harsh on his younger brother, but then he thought again and decided his actions against him had been entirely reasonable.

As he had ridden beside the coach that had borne Lucrezia and Giovanni from Naples, he did the same next to the carriage that had Oriana inside. He loved that child more than he could say. It was as though God himself had given him a chance to atone for all his crimes if he cared for and raised this child, a child who had managed to so quickly capture and entrance his heart, which he thought beat in his chest only for Lucrezia and his family.

Each time Oriana cried, Cesare halted the army so that he could attend to her and soothe her himself, unless of course she required nursing. The habit did slow the pace of the army greatly, but what it took away from the speed, it gave to the respect that the soldiers and lieutenants had for their supreme commander, Cesare Borgia, despite the gossip that abounded but would wane once the city was in sight.

"Look, it's the city," Paolo Orsini bellowed, "There's Rome!"

The entire multitude of men gazed up at the city they called home, or the city that would call home for the next few months until their next engagement. Rome was stunning in the twilight, its castellated walls were silhouetted by the setting sun and above them and the cityscape of the Eternal City peaked sevenfold as the hills rose and fell in the city. Cesare felt that he never wanted to leave his home again and knew instantly that the host of men at his back must be experiencing the same sensation.

He was only a few miles from Lucrezia now. He was so close he could have sworn he felt her tug on his heart from the outskirts of the city. The issues that might arise from him bringing Oriana home with him to her to nurse was a thought that had occupied his mind for the greater part of the journey back to Rome. He was unsettled at the idea of Lucrezia rejecting her and being angry with him for even imagining that she would ever (or could ever) be a mother to the babe of Caterina Sforza. The hope that had taken root in the back of his mind and at the bottom of his heart, reassuring him that his sister would most likely take to the child as he had and come to adore her as he did and always would, was the one thing that was holding him up on his horse as he approached the gates of Rome.

As they rode into the city in darkness while the people were returning to their own homes, those who were still out in the streets clamoured to greet the army and to shout his name as the conqueror of Forli and Caterina Sforza. The men behind him lapped it up like dogs drink their water but he was more concerned that the coach should make it through the increasing throng safely and without damage.

"You there," he called out to one of his bodyguards, "take the rest of the guard and ride on both sides of the carriage there. If there is even one scratch on it, then there will be hell to pay."

They nodded and fell back to the coach, having understood their orders and the cold tone in which they were issued. Their eyes were all peeled, searching out the crowd for any who might wish the occupants of the carriage harm or damage it in any way that would attract the Duke's attention later.

When the cavalcade rode past the villa of Vannozza Cattaneo, they heard their captain roar, "Mother, mother, come outside!"

A few moments passed before the called-for woman appeared on the balcony that overlooked the street, smiling and laughing at the sight of her prodigal son.

"My son, my boy, you have come home and in victory, too."

Cesare smiled back at her, "Indeed, I have, mother."

"Come here for supper with your father and Gioffre and we will plan you a Triumph as they did in the times of the Caesars."

He bowed and acquiesced to her request before urging his horse forward through the streets of Rome until the throng of soldiers and horses and carriages reached the courtyard of the Vatican where the Pope and the consistory and his brother were all awaiting him and greeted him with rapturous applause.

His father dressed in his white robes was the first to come forward and embrace him as he descended from the saddle, announcing to the world, "This is my son, Cesare Borgia, the man who conquered Forli and Caterina Sforza. May God bless him and let his mercy shine down upon him and grant him long life!"

There was a chorus of 'Amen' and the body of people behind His Holiness crossed themselves and then retreated back into the Vatican leaving Cesare, Gioffre and Rodrigo standing in the courtyard with the armies of France and the Vatican.

"Baglioni?" Cesare barked, his head turned, though he did not turn away from his family.

"Yes, my lord Borgia," Gian Paolo replied, "What do you require of me?"

"Take the armies and see them into barracks and have the Orsini brothers find somewhere to stable all the horses."

Once he had his orders, Baglioni began to move the army out of the streets and into the military quarter of the city. Roberto and Paolo Orsini were given their commission and shepherded the cavalry away. As the square cleared, the other Borgia men caught sight of the conspicuous coach that was not conducted away but remained.

"So…" Rodrigo said cautiously, "I take it that in there is Caterina's bastard daughter?"

Cesare's eyes reddened and his temper flared at his father's description of _his _child but he restrained himself, "Holy Father, Oriana may bear her mother's name, but let there be no mistake. She is my daughter and as such, you will legitimise her in a Papal Bull."

Rodrigo had expected his son to return calling the Sforza child his own and Vannozza had suggested that if their son truly viewed her as his, he would expect her to have the same rights and privileges that he had been given, namely a good name and legitimacy. What the Pope of Rome had not anticipated, however, was the fury he had just noticed in his eldest child's eyes when he had called her what she was. Was it love he saw? Did his boy love this orphan of Caterina's? That would be a problem for him…and the family.

"Well, then, brother," Gioffre said, trying to break the tension that was building up between his father and brother, "why haven't you introduced me to my new niece yet?"

In that moment, Cesare saw the Gioffre Borgia of old. He always managed to bring the light back into any dispute or argument between his family. It warmed his heart to think of Gioffre's eagerness to meet his new niece, which he had so fondly called her. He did wish all of his family to accept Oriana so and he was glad that although his father had maligned her, he would come to love her as he did Giovanni once he knew her and saw her enchanting face.

"Marianna, bring her out, please!" Cesare shouted, wanting to give her as grand an entrance as he could.

When the wet nurse stepped out from the carriage, it was clear that little Oriana was awake but had no complaints of Rome so was quietly clicking her tongue and slobbering over her nurse. As she was placed in the arms of her guardian, Cesare could have sworn that she laughed but Gioffre pointed out that she did not have that ability yet, but she definitely graced him with a radiant smile.

"She is lovely, Cesare," Gioffre murmured softly, playing with Oriana's fingers, "she will grow into a beautiful lady, I am sure of it."

Cesare nodded, succeeding (but only just!) in holding back his tears, "My thanks, little brother. Father, what is your opinion of your granddaughter?"

Rodrigo knew that to display his repulsion of the child and her very existence in the world and his household would be a foolish action and a counterproductive one, "She is a delight, Cesare. You have done well keeping her alive. Long may you continue to do so."

Both brothers' eyes widened at his words, words that seemed like a wish of good fortune but sounded like a threat and a warning. It went unremarked though, as there was one person's approval he desired but had not attained as of yet, "Is Lucrezia well?"

"She is. Your man never leaves her side," Rodrigo chided, but gently, "your mother saw her yesterday to tell her of your victory and said that the midwives do not believe she has long to go. Any day now, they think."

Cesare let a sigh of relief fall from his lips, chapped from the roadside dust. He had worried for days that he had missed or would miss the birth of his son or that something untoward might befall the mother of his child without him there to protect her, though he trusted Micheletto absolutely with her safety. She would get a lapful of two infants now instead of the one that she was expecting…it was an event that would either endear him to her or send her into a Spanish rage.

"That reminds me," he said suddenly, despite not really knowing what had triggered his memory, "mama expects us all for supper tonight."

The other men said that they would of course be Vannozza's guests for dinner on such a night of jubilation but when Oriana began to cry they both quietened and watched as the most unlikely man in Rome held his daughter and pacified her with speed and unexpected tenderness.

"I will take her up to Giovanni's room and give her to his nursemaid to tend to for the evening and then we can go," he decided, not asking for their opinions.

Cesare had long since known that he had taken charge of the Borgia family and that he wielded more power than his father did with his College of Cardinals, so when he decided something, it was adhered to as if it was from The Bible. He did want so badly to see Lucrezia, but he wanted to stay with her forever and he had only a few moments to spare before he had to go to his mother's villa, so he chose to postpone his visit until after dinner and then he could spend the night with her.


	30. Oriana Sforza

**Author's Note:**

I realised it has been quite a while since I included a Cesare/Lucrezia chapter in this story and I miss them, so here's one and I am glad that most of you seem to like Oriana. In the light of writing this chapter and after writing some of the previous ones, I do feel I should say that I adored a fair few of the lines from episodes nine and ten, so I am plucking very few of them to put in this story, so if you recognise a line from the show, obviously I am not claiming it as my own!

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**Chapter XXX - Oriana Sforza**

Cesare had left his mother's house early and had opted to walk back to the Vatican, leaving his father and brother the use of the carriage. He found that he could not concentrate on any of the conversations his companions had throughout the meal, as thoughts of Lucrezia and Oriana distracted him. He could not wait to get back to Oriana and take her to see her new mother, whom he had not seen in too long. He missed Lucrezia terribly and he had no desire to sit through hours of listening to his father speak on subjects that interested him not at all and the praise his mother and brother were heaping upon him.

He excused himself feigning fatigue and promised to visit again tomorrow when he would return with Oriana so that Vannozza could meet her granddaughter, whom she was excited to see compared to his father and then made his way home to the Vatican. The evening was pleasant and not too warm so he strolled through the narrow streets of the city, marvelling at the works that had been done under his father's orders to the old and ancient places. His mother, his sister and La Bella Farnese had done exemplary things whilst striving to help the poor and orphans of Rome. He didn't know why that surprised him though, as they were three of the most stubborn and capable women he had ever met.

As he climbed the stairs of the Vatican palace, he felt his breath hitch with every step he took that brought him closer to Lucrezia's bedside. Just before her door, he hesitated for a moment, pausing to wonder if he should fetch Oriana from his bedchamber where her nurse was instructed to take her, but he thought it better to spend some time with his lover before introducing her to her surprise new child.

After a few crisp knocks, Micheletto came to the door, dagger in hand, but when he beheld the familiar visage of his master, he sheathed it and greeted Cesare, "It is good to see you returned safely, Cesare Borgia. Your mistress is awake and awaits your presence."

With that short, but oddly sentimental salutation, Micheletto took his leave and sat in the hall outside Lucrezia's suite so that he could still keep his vigil but would do so while giving the reuniting lovers the privacy they craved.

Cesare walked into the room anxiously, but when he saw Lucrezia lying on her bed, wrapped tightly in her linen and her engorged stomach creating a mound in the gold and white satin, his breath was taken from the very depths of his lungs and he drew his hand to his mouth to try and force it back inside his body, but to no avail. It was the single most beautiful sight he had ever been fortunate enough to see.

"I have missed you, sis," he moaned with a raspy voice, "I fear I have been gone too long."

Lucrezia was moved deeply by his reaction to her condition and replied, in tears, "You have, indeed, my lord but I think you will have to come here for me to show you just how much I have missed you in turn."

With a slight chuckle, Cesare did as he was bid and crawled gently up onto the bed beside her, wary of jostling her too much, and placed a chaste kiss on her pale brow, "How are you, my love?"

She took his hand in hers and moved it so that it covered the mound of her belly. As it lay there unmoving, Cesare felt the strong kick that came from within his sister's body. He had felt Giovanni move when he was _in utero_ but the feeling of your own child thriving in the womb was something he had never expected to know or revel in. He would not have traded it for anything in the world.

"I consider that to be the child telling his father that he fares well," he jested, "but unless I am mistaken, I believe I asked its mother how she is?"

Lucrezia giggled, "_She _is very well, though she is growing weary of this confinement. Cesare, I want to go out and see people. Micheletto is not the best company," she paused, "but I am glad that you are returned to me now, but I do wish you never had to leave in the first place. I hate Caterina Sforza!"

The bitterness in her voice was plain and the reasons for her to loathe the Sforza family were understandable but it did fuel the fire of doubt that was kindling in Cesare's mind regarding her feelings towards Oriana, the daughter of her sworn enemy. He would have to broach the subject and it appeared that she had given him the ideal opportunity by introducing the topic of the deceased Lady Sforza.

"Concerning Caterina Sforza, my love," he commenced, his voice rife with uncertainty, "I have some news to tell you and I am not sure how you will feel about what I am about to say, so I tell you now to try and remain calm and to think of the baby, for if you upset yourself, it is not good for either of you."

Lucrezia's eyes bore into his with alarming intensity, "I do not like where you are going with this, brother, and if you are about to inform me that the bitch is dead, then as you see, I have already been told of it."

"No, no, my love," he knew he was calling her that too much, but he thought it was the right way to reassure her, "I know that mother told you of her passing. What I have to tell you instead concerns her child, her daughter."

"So, the Tigress of Forli managed to birth a she-cub?"

"Yes, my dear. Her name is Oriana."

Lucrezia looked startled, "How do you know her child's name? And why do you speak her name with such fondness, as if you are praying?"

Cesare rose from the softness of her bed and stood at its foot so he could look straight down at Lucrezia as he revealed the responsibility he had taken on himself, "I am her guardian and her adopted father. She is now my daughter. I brought her into the world and promised Caterina I would ensure she survived and I will do that, I will do that for her whole lifetime as her father."

He stopped there to give her a few moments to process that globule of new and what was probably shocking information that he had just heaped upon her. When she said not a word for what seemed like an age, he returned to his place beside her and rubbed her belly to try and rouse her from her trance-like state.

"Your daughter? Caterina Sforza's daughter is now to be your own daughter?" She asked coldly.

"Yes, my love, she is," he said calmly, "I named her and I would have her raised with Giovanni and our son when he is born."

"You must have taken a blow to the head if you think I am letting the child of that woman anywhere near my babies!"

He groaned, "Lucrezia, do not do this. I know it must upset you that I have been gone only a while and have returned with a baby whom I expect you to love and to nurse but let me fetch her from my chambers and you will fall in love with her instantly. Do not think of her as the daughter of Caterina Sforza. Think of her as my own child. You would not abhor my daughter, would you, sis?"

"Do not turn this round on me, Cesare Borgia!" She warned in a dangerous tone.

Cesare saw that this discussion was taking an unfortunate turn so he took her cheeks firmly in his hands and brought her lips to his in a kiss that exhibited the true passion that he felt for her, in the hope of eliminating any thoughts of disappointment or revulsion that she possessed for him or his new daughter. As his tongue caressed her lips and he pulled at her tongue with his own, he felt her mellow and when her arms were entwined around his neck, he could feel every part of her pressed against him, wanting him to make it all go away.

"My love, I am so sorry," he whispered against her lips, "I am not turning anything round on you, but I _need _you to love her, Lucrezia. She is ours as this child is. Just as I am now her father, you are now her mother."

Lucrezia could not resist his heartfelt pleas that pulled at her heartstrings. It was one thing that she could always depend on him to do, to show her why she loved him with everything in her. Her brother was the strongest man she knew but he was also the most vulnerable. He could command armies with ease and kill without hesitation but he needed love and approval in a way that no other man she had ever met did. He craved the love of his family members and their respect for what he did and sacrificed for them and she adored him for that.

"Cesare," she murmured with a soft smile, letting him know that she had been won over, "please bring the children here. I would very much like to see my son and to meet my…_daughter_."

He kissed her with ardour when the word 'daughter' fell from her lips like sweet honey, dripping with love and affection. Then, after a quick peck on her puckered lips he left her room and went next door to fetch Oriana and then to the nursery to get Giovanni.

As the father went back down the hall with two children in tow, Micheletto marvelled at the blissful expression plastered across his face. He had seen Cesare in battle, he had seen him at his best and his worst, but seeing him with his children made something deep within the assassin tremble at the honesty and perfection that was Cesare surrounded by his family and those for whom he fought so fiercely and decisively. Micheletto laughed at the thought that he was an assassin with an awfully soft heart as Cesare passed him by with a friendly nod.

"Lucrezia, my love," he said softly as he entered her bedchamber, "here they are to see their mama."

She sat up and leaned forward as far as she was able to have her children in her sights, "Come here, my darlings. Oh, I haven't seen Giovanni in so long…"

Cesare heard the wistfulness in her voice and regretted not being in Rome to keep her company and ensure that she saw her son, even if he had to smuggle him in and out of her confinement chamber in secret.

Giovanni only just had the use of his stubby legs but he tried to run towards his mother but ended up waddling sweetly up to the bed, where, upon realising that the climb was beyond his height, he turned back to his uncle and pointed up, commanding to be lifted up onto the bed to be with his mama. It made both adults laugh heartily.

"Yes, yes, my boy, your uncle is coming," Cesare reassured his nephew with a smile and a wink at the child's mother.

Lucrezia held her arms out for the baby and took her welcomingly into her open arms so that Cesare could pick up Giovanni and pull him onto the bed with all the rest of them. It was a pretty portrait to say the least, but then again, she always thought her family made a pretty picture, it was just a shame that very few people outside of it agreed.

As she examined the bundle in her arms, Lucrezia knew precisely why her brother had fallen head-over-heels in love with the small girl. She had wisps of brown hair that was just beginning to curl and mind-blowing blue eyes with faint gold circling her pupils. Those eyes would make men fall over themselves for her when she grew and those pert, little lips of hers plumped and became kissable.

"Well…what do you make of her?" Cesare asked nervously.

Lucrezia smiled warmly, "She is enchanting, my love. She will grow into a beautiful woman, and will be adored by many, I suspect," she paused to glimpse his wary expression, "but none more so than her father…and her mother."

The closest he had ever come to blubbering was that moment when he heard his sister claim his daughter as her own and pledge to love her dearly. He could feel his heart burst with joy and happiness and love, just as he had just before Lucrezia's wedding to Alfonso when he had pulled her to him and kissed her with everything within his body and mind and soul.

"I love you, Lucrezia Borgia. You are the most perfect woman on this Earth."

She moaned then and Cesare thought it was from the effect his words had on her, but when she hastily passed Oriana back to him and made sure that Giovanni was firmly planted in his lap, he saw the wetness that seeped into her bedclothes and knew exactly what it entailed…a very long night.


	31. Motherhood

**Author's Note:**

This chapter was a pleasure to write, you can probably tell by its length. Again I ask you to forgive me for my lack of knowledge of obstetrics. I took the name 'Cesario' from Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night or What You Will" but seeing as this predates it, I did not feel it was quite suitable enough for the child of Cesare and Lucrezia. I went through hundreds of names to find the one that I wanted, so I hope you like it or at least can be content with it. Please do review this chapter!

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**Chapter XXXI - Motherhood**

While Lucrezia groaned and cried in pain, her lover went from the room and took the young children with him outside to Micheletto, in whose arms he placed Giovanni and then tugged him to follow him to the nursery. Once there, he told his manservant to run for the midwife and the physician, for his sister's time was upon her. He then called for a pageboy to hurry to his mother's house to announce Lucrezia's labour to his parents and brother.

He then returned to her side, "It will be all right, my love, do not fear. You will be fine and in a few hours we shall have our child here with us."

She panted back, "I know, brother, but I am afraid. If a lady as strong as Lady Sforza can die in childbirth for her second child, then what chance does a woman such as I stand?"

The fear emanating from her eyes petrified him as he recalled the horror of Oriana's birth, but he could still reassure her, "Lucrezia, Caterina Sforza had to flee her home and her waters broke on horseback. You, dearest, are in the comfort of your own bed and will have people other than me to tend you and make sure you and our son survive. I fear, however, that you will have to do without the one thing that Caterina had: me. I will not be permitted to remain here with you, love; propriety will not stand for it."

"No, brother," she wept, "I would have you stay here, by my side. Always by my side…"

Those words called him back to the past and brought tears to his already reddened eyes, as he apologised, "You know, you know that if it were always my choice, then, of course I would always be at your side, but we cannot provoke even more scandal."

Lucrezia wept profusely at his denial, but knew that he was right in his words. They could not afford the Italian people and the Roman people to gossip any more than they already did on the relationship that the Borgia siblings shared. It wounded her that Cesare would not be able to see his child born because of what the world's opinion of them was or could be, for she knew that had he been allowed near her childbed he would have been witness to both Giovanni's birth and that of his fast-approaching son.

They could both hear the medics bustling down the hallway towards them, but neither were ready for him to be dismissed, so they shared a final, fleeting kiss before he had to appear to be a brother waiting for the midwives and keen to leave the scene of womanly woes, rather than what he truly was: a father and lover frantic for the lives of the two people he cared for most in the world, who most definitely wished to be present at his child's birth and through his lover's labour.

"Remember, I love you, my darling Lucrezia," Cesare told her, "and I am going to be right outside that door until he is born, do not think I am far away."

Lucrezia smiled and was about to respond but a contraction threatened to tear her in two and all she managed to do was scream into his face before the trio of medics came to her side and began to move her around the bed and clear it of covers. The last thing she saw of Cesare was his last look at her before he quit the room.

An hour or so later, her family arrived on the scene, heralded by her mother entering her bedchambers and taking the place of the nurse who was wiping the sweat from her clammy brow as she tried to push the child from her.

"There, there, child," Vannozza soothed, "you are nearly ready to be a mother again and the birth is progressing quickly, so you can be thankful for that. The family is all outside praying for you, except Cesare."

Her daughter looked up at her with tears fogging her eyes, "Cesare is not outside? He promised…"

"The children's nursemaid came and said that Oriana would not settle so he has just stepped away to see if he can pacify her some."

She could forgive him then, but hoped he would return soon, for she had decided that she would not and could not tolerate his missing this for one second longer. She gripped the front of her mother's gown tightly and ordered her to fetch Cesare in here when he returned and not to take no for an answer, as she could feel the child pressing down. She knew it would not be long before he came into the world bawling and crying.

"Mama, I do not care for society and its taboos," she moaned, "I do not care what people will say if – or I should say when, in this Rome of ours – they hear of it, but I want, I _need_ my brother to be by my side as I do this. Please, mother, go and bring him here."

Vannozza knew she would not be able to reason with her daughter while she was giving birth, so she merely nodded curtly and left in search of her son, who, it would seem, would be present at another birth. Only God knew why women ended up wanting or needing her eldest son when they felt a child coming into the world!

"Cesare, you must come with me now," she barked at her son, who was holding his gurgling daughter, "she wants you in there and will not relent."

"What am I to do with Oriana?" He asked, still reeling from the news that he would see his son born after all.

His mother looked at her hands in feigned shock, "God above, I see that I have two hands attached to two capable and strong arms. What can I do with such tools? I will take her, Cesare."

He was not in the mood to call out his mother for her unwarranted sarcasm, so he simply placed Oriana carefully in her arms and once he was satisfied that she would not start fussing again, he hurried into Lucrezia's bedroom to take up his place at her bedside once more. He was stunned by the sight before him. The sight of a woman giving birth was not foreign to him, but Caterina Sforza's delivery had been alfresco and improvised and had resulted in her death, yet Lucrezia looked to be in far worse condition than the Countess of Forli had been when she begged Cesare to cut her child from her.

Lucrezia's hair clung to her head, sticky with perspiration. Her legs were spread and were coated in scarlet blood, the mounds of her breasts and belly shone through her thin shift as the material was damp with sweat. Her usual rosy cheeks were blanched with the toil of labour and her eyes were red from tears. When those eyes fell upon him standing petrified at the door, he could have sworn that though she was suffering with the pains of childbirth, she smiled at him.

When a scream let fly from her wan lips, he was roused from his daze and rushed to her and took her hand in his and felt his fingers snap as she gripped it in her vice-like grip.

"There, there, sweet sister," he whispered into her ear, mopping her brow, "you are doing _so_ well. It will all be over soon and then the world will have a new Borgia to greet."

He could not call her anything more loving or speak of their child, for the other people in the room would spread the gossip of how Cesare Borgia helped his sister birth her bastard baby, but he did not want words of the truth of their situation to be spread verbatim round Rome. She would have to be content with the silent words that he was sending to her through his thoughts rather than the understated words he was saying aloud.

Out of the corner of his eye, for he was concentrating on his sister, he noticed the physician mumbling something to both midwives and a shadow crept over their faces at once, he bellowed, "What is it? Speak up if you have something to say!"

The patient ceased her noises of pain and looked up to see what had caused Cesare's voice to become so commanding and infuriated, "What is wrong? Is it my child?"

The physician stepped towards the bed and informed the pair, "Milady, Milord Borgia, the babe fares well, but there is issue with your ladyship."

That news sent Cesare and Lucrezia spiralling into nightmares and fears. The mother-to-be imagined the deaths of both her and her child and the loss and grief that Cesare would have to face in the aftermath. This made her weep. The father-to-be dreamed that the love of his life was cruelly snatched from him and he was left on the Earth with two infants whom he had to care for but could not without his sweetheart by his side to help him and be his.

"What is wrong?" Cesare asked, for Lucrezia had resumed her whimpering as the labour did not let up.

"The Dowager Duchess has birthed a child before so she is not too narrow to expel this child," the irritating physician announced, "however, Your Grace, the problem is that the process was occurring with few impediments until the child's head came past the midway point in her channel. Then, it began to warp her, My Lord Borgia."

"Warp her, you say? What do you mean?"

He sighed wearily, "Your sister will never bear another child. She will be barren."

They both heard that answer and as Cesare beheld his sister's face, he saw what he felt inside: a mixture of relief and gloom, though the outlook was not as grim as they had both envisioned. It was true that they might, in the future, desire another child, but neither would choose to trade the life they wished for and had together for another baby. They already had Giovanni, Oriana and they would have this child to raise together, for none would ever wed Lucrezia again, not after two illegitimate children and Cesare had made it clear to his new bride that she was expected to remain in Avignon, a decision she had not found objectionable. They would be together for their entire lives.

"Do your duties, then," Cesare growled at the medics, "and ensure that this child and its mother survive this night. Do not speak to me of theoretical nieces and nephews that have no weight in this matter."

Lucrezia nodded weakly as her strength was waning and the pains were growing ever stronger and more unbearable. She tried to scream and bear down, but she had been kept waiting too long. The midwives and the annoyingly pompous physician saw that their patient's life was leaving her body and after promising her brother, the Borgia renowned for the love he bore his sister and his vile temper, that she would surely live for many years and the child too, they did not wish to renege on that vow.

"Your Grace, your sister is weak now, but the child's head is out. She will need help pushing the rest of the babe from her-"

"What can I do?" Cesare interrupted.

"You must sit behind her and place your legs on either side of her – I know this will be awkward and unseemly for you, but it must be done – and put your hands splayed on top of her stomach and push down as she does one final time. Then, the child will come."

Cesare moved into position and pressed himself against Lucrezia's warm back as if he was pushing his strength into her and whispered tenderly into her ear so that none would be able to catch his words, "This is it, my love, you and I are going to bring our child into the world together."

He heard her reply, but her voice was too feeble for any words she might have said to be intelligible. He felt her muscles contract and her entire body seize up as she put all of her strength into the one final push that would send their child into the world. As she bore down, Cesare performed his task and was encouraged as the physician instructed both to perform their offices with more force for their child was seconds away from being born.

"He is arrived, my lady, your son is here and is healthy!" The older midwife exclaimed as she took the baby from his mother's body and clipped the cord.

The other midwife went with her to clear the baby's airways so that a shrill, piercing cry echoed around the room and down the hallway, proclaiming the birth to the uneasy relatives and friend waiting outside for news.

As the new parents heard their son's loud and persistent wailing, the father placed a hidden kiss on the mother's head and offered up a silent prayer to God in gratitude for his lover and his child's survival. They would be a family now, a true and loving family.

Once the physician had done his work with the afterbirth, it was obvious that the three surplus occupants of the room had no business remaining, so Cesare waved them away, telling them that he would care for his sister now, who was recovering swiftly and resiliently from the ordeal of childbirth and to place the child in his mother's empty but eager arms.

After Lucrezia observed them leave the three of them in peace, she looked up at Cesare with a tired smile and said softly, "Well, my lord, it is my honour to present you with your firstborn son."

Cesare laughed and cried simultaneously at her words, "It is _my _honour to be his father and your lover, sister."

She giggled girlishly at his suave, quick reply, "So, shall we decide upon a name for our son, brother?"

As the baby suckled for the first time, he found himself ignoring her question and staring inanely at his son, a thought that made him chuckle: _his _son, and whispered in awe, "Motherhood suits you, sis. I had never really noticed until this day, this hour, this minute just how much being a mother creates in you a radiance that makes you even more beautiful than you already were and I did not believe you could be more beautiful."

"I say again, Cesare," she replied, her voice laced with persistence, "what shall we name our son? Or do you wish to call him 'boy' or 'child' and continue with your endless flatteries of me?"

"Ever the diplomat, beautiful sister," he said with a cheeky wink, "but you are right, a son of Cesare and Lucrezia Borgia cannot be called such outlandish names! What names please you, my love?"

"Cesario…"

He guffawed at that, "Where did you hear such a name? It is laughable! And you cannot think it a good idea to name him for me."

"Very well, if you do not like it," she pouted, placing her breast back into her shift, "then we shall name him something else, but there is no need to mock me, brother."

"Forgive me, sister, I pray you find it in your heart to forgive your errant brother," he joked, "but what is your opinion on the name, Alessandro?"

She looked intently at the child she held in her arms and murmured at him, "Alessandro…Alessandro Borgia."

As the baby sucked on its own lips and tongue in pure, unadulterated contentment, she said, "Yes, he will be Alessandro Borgia."

Cesare smiled ecstatically at that decision, "He will be Alessandro Borgia, Duke of Valentinois, for I will name him as my heir, since Giovanni will inherit your title and be the next Duke of Bisceglie as the Holy Father decreed."

"Do you not wish Oriana to be the Duchess of Valentinois? I do not wish to take away our son's birthright but what is to become of Oriana Sforza?"

Cesare smiled at his sister's kind heart, "Do not worry about Oriana, Lucrezia. She will receive her mother's title of Countess of Forli and Lady of Imola. I have already had documents written up to ensure that none of the other vultures in her natural family usurp her place and who knows, one day she may yet be the Duchess of Valentinois…"

She laughed, "Already matchmaking? And between your own children no less, Cesare! What would people say?"

He sighed, "Nothing that is not already being whispered of us, my love. Now, let me steal my son from you for a few moments to take him to meet the rest of his family."

"Very well, take him."

As he took his newly born son into his arms, he could not believe that this small human being was his, the result of his love for Lucrezia and hers for him. Alessandro was his miracle and gave him one more reason to live. It was all coming to pass as he could have only dreamed it would.

"Praise God, praise God," Rodrigo said as he placed his hand on the child's small forehead in benediction, "and thank God for the safe arrival of this new Borgia son. Has he a name yet, Cesare?"

"Lucrezia has chosen to name him Alessandro, Holy Father."

"Ah, your sister has chosen a wise and fair name," the Pope declared, "for she has named her second son for his grandfather."

Cesare stood back on his haunches as it smacked him in the face that inadvertently he had selected a name that could be seen as a tribute to his father, as his Papal name was Alexander and Alessandro was an Italianised version of the original Greek name. He assured his father that it was, in fact, a happy accident, but one that God had obviously desired. That news was not met well but accepted nonetheless.

He had allowed Gioffre and Vannozza to inspect and fondle Alessandro for a minute or so and even Micheletto had skulked out of his place in the background to see his master's son but Cesare insisted that he needed to take the baby back to his mother and then would stay there so that Micheletto could get some rest.

Before he went back into Lucrezia's bedchamber, he caught his father's tired eyes and said with gusto, "Oriana and Alessandro will be christened together, Holy Father, when _their_ mother can be churched, but both are healthy babies, so there should be no problem with waiting."

All the Pope could do was nod at his son's words and guide his youngest son and mistress to their room and their carriage and leave Cesare to whisk his 'nephew' back to his waiting mother whose arms were longing to hold her new son painfully.

The trinity of Borgias slept in the same bed that night, both waking each time little Alessandro cried, but they were in bliss. They had survived against all odds to have a son between them, a son they doted on with their hearts and souls.


	32. Infantes Romanae

**Author's Note:**

Many apologies for the delay which was caused by a combination of major writer's block and a sweet little boy (my treasure of a nephew!) who has been occupying my every moment and thought! Here's this chapter though, which is very heavy on the baby and I hope you do like it and please do review it well…

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**Chapter XXXII - Infantes Romanae**

As the family stood around the font in the gardens of the palaces and watched as Cardinal Sforza held his cousin's child and anointed her with Holy Water. It had been a joint decision made by Cesare and Lucrezia that someone from the Sforza family ought to have a role in Oriana's christening. They were resolved that the most obvious person to perform the rite was the Vice Chancellor and much to their surprise, His Holiness did not object to Ascanio christening his son's adopted daughter, but had been painfully abrupt when he told them that it would be he who christened his newest grandson.

"I baptise thee in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit," Ascanio Sforza pronounced, "Amen."

When he passed the fussy babe back to her guardian, he noted how her eyes gleamed just as Caterina's had when life stirred behind them. He marvelled at how the child quietened down when she felt the strong and reliable arms of her new father but had squirmed and fussed all the way through her first public engagement as a Borgia baby.

"Now for Alessandro," Rodrigo said, eager to move on from Oriana's christening, "come now, daughter, give him to his grandfather."

Lucrezia smiled warmly as she passed Alessandro, who was dressed in the same gown that Giovanni had been wrapped in at his own christening, over to the Pope so that his rite of passage could commence. She dabbed at the tear that threatened to fall from her eye as she saw the same temperament in her second son that she witnessed from time to time in her first. Whereas Oriana had only fussed subtly and whimpered slightly, Alessandro chose to struggle against his grandfather's grip and twist and turn away from the discomfort of the water that was being wiped across his forehead.

The father of the two children being christened observed as his son fretted and jostled about but was attempting to hold back his laughter. He too remembered the day of Giovanni's christening and knew that it was from their mother that both children inherited their stubbornness to comply with what was expected of them and he adored that. He wondered what aspects of himself his children would perhaps assimilate and grow up to own, but that was a journey of discovery he anticipated with excitement.

Once both children's christenings had taken place and all were satisfied with how both babies were conducting themselves, the family and guests of the papal family went inside for the luxurious and lavish banquet that had been arranged to celebrate the dual christening. Later in the evening, Cesare's masquerade ball was to be held in the great hall where all the nobles and honoured guests of Italy would be congregating to meet and greet the two new members of the most hated family in the country, but also the most feared.

As the lunch banquet was drawing to a close and guests were preparing to depart to change for the evening's festivities, Rodrigo stood up and held his chalice of wine high and announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, we are so delighted that you could join us and our family on this most auspicious day when our grandson, Alessandro, was christened and brought into the sea of God's beloved children."

The eldest Borgia son stood up and interrupted his inebriated father, "Forgive me, Holy Father, but you must have consumed too much wine, for you have forgotten your _granddaughter _in your stupor."

Rodrigo Borgia was not a patient man, nor was he known for his tolerance of disobedience or insubordination from anyone, especially when it occurred in public. He had tried to sever the ties that bound his eldest child to his new charge over the past days, but it seemed that Cesare had found the person who truly tamed his blackened heart and would suffer no one to separate him from her. For now, he would have to bide his time but he would be rid of her presence eventually, once he found a way to dispatch her without implicating himself.

"No, my son," he replied with the practiced false tone of diplomacy, "we did not forget your child, do not fret. For, Oriana Sforza, my son's ward and adopted daughter, the natural child of the late Caterina Sforza was also brought into the Lord's holy love this day. The daughter of our fallen enemy is now one of us, a Borgia, whom we love and cherish as one of our own and whom we intend to raise alongside our new grandson."

Both new parents smiled at their father's words but saw clearly the falseness that pervaded them all. They shared a glance that spoke volumes. Both yearned for their father to embrace his new granddaughter truly in his heart and to keep out of their affairs so they could prepare to quit the Vatican and move away together, which was their plan but at the moment was only a pipe dream to the older Borgia siblings.

"I also proclaim them _Infantes Romanae_, the Children of Rome, beloved of God and his Pope."

The entire hall fell silent. The hubbub of the feasters died down until the embers were extinguished and only an uncomfortable silence remained. Nobody knew what to make of Rodrigo's words, for the title of _Infantes Romanae_ had never been heard of or conjured up before. It was understood that it was a good thing for the children and was intended to give them power over the common mortals of the world but there were mixed feelings regarding what this new, ridiculous title entitled the infants to.

Cesare leaned over to his lover and whispered in her ear, "Well, I do not know what our father has just gifted our children, but it does not look like a popular present with our Italian noble friends here…"

She smiled as she watched her father fluster and eye Cardinal Sforza to start applauding, "Indeed, my love, it appears that our dear father has overplayed his hand regarding his grandchildren and is now even more unpopular than he was before the world could see him as a doting grandparent."

"Welcome guests, our grandchildren are blessings given to us for doing God's work and since they cannot have earthly and noble titles and estates yet, we thought it wise to bestow upon them a more important and unmatched title." The Pope continued after a long, pregnant pause that Cardinal Sforza did not end by starting applause.

Cesare knew that his father was trying to elevate the new generation of Borgias by naming them the Children of Rome but what he didn't know yet was that Cesare had intended Oriana to be the mistress of her own castle from the beginning of her life, with him as her regent and Alessandro was to receive a title from the King of France, a small _titre de courtroisie_, namely that of Baron de Semblançay.

"On that note, I have something to announce," Cesare boldly declared, hoping to eradicate some of the tension in the room, "if you would all care to listen to another Borgia speak. I speak on behalf of my sister, the Duchess of Bisceglie and myself when I thank our father for his kind and generous gestures to both our children."

Lucrezia eyed her brother playfully, knowing how hard he must have been concentrating in order to not have a slip of the tongue and disclose his paternity of her son to the entire room. It was going to be a struggle for him, she knew. Unlike Paolo, who had never had much reason to converse with the lord he cuckolded, Cesare would have ample opportunities to accidentally reveal his true feelings for her and be caught calling Alessandro his own blood…as would she. She frowned as it dawned on her that the pair of them ought to speak about measures that they should take while together or with their children as a family whilst they were in the Vatican palace.

Cesare continued, "Though that is not all the news I bear. As you all know, I am commander of the French army and as such, I have the favour of His Majesty the King of France. He has written to me of his congratulations on the birth of my sister's child and has seen fit to give him the title, Baron de Semblançay, which he has the rights and income of henceforth, which is his and his alone, however, upon my own death, he will become the Duke of Valentinois. As for my sweet daughter, she shall inherit _all_ of her mother's titles and estates, making her the new Countess of Forli and Lady of Imola. So, I propose a toast to the children, His Grace the Duke and Her Ladyship the Countess, _Infantes Romanae_!"


	33. Silent Assassin

**Author's Note:**

I am going to apologise again because having read the last chapter I have realised that I'm not actually that pleased with my own writing, but now that that plot element is taken care of I can just press on with the story and get back to my usual standard of writing. Please do keep reading and leaving me reviews, as they are such a joy for me to read of an evening!

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**Chapter XXXIII - Silent Assassin**

After the ball that had lasted well into the early hours of the morning and had gone brilliantly well in contrast to the last celebration that had been held to rejoice in the christening of a Borgia child that had as its main feature, said infant's uncle draping him over the great hall and threatening to drop him to his death, the new parents each took a baby each to bed and gave their word that they would spend the night in each other's company as the entire Vatican would be so wearied from the endless revelries that they would wish to sleep until Judgement Day, if they could.

"I will give him to his nurse for the night," Lucrezia murmured to Cesare as they wound their way through the winding corridors of the palace, "then I will come to your chambers, my love."

Cesare nodded back, "Very well, but you know that Oriana sleeps in the antechamber of my apartment so be silent as you enter, sis."

Lucrezia bore no ill will towards her brother for his overprotectiveness and adoration of Oriana but she did wonder why he was still so determined to keep her constantly by his side and not release her to the care of a nurse who would be much more qualified (and dare she even think it, capable) of tending to a young baby. She knew though, that no advice of hers regarding Oriana's state would be welcome if it chastised or found fault with his methods of dealing with his new daughter.

"I shall be silent as the grave, do not fret, brother," she whispered with a bite to her tone, "but I cannot guarantee I will be able to remain so after I have been with you for a time, for I am now churched and I feel I am ready."

"Ready?" Cesare asked absentmindedly, concentrating as he was on Oriana's breath leaving and entering her petite body as she slept in his arms.

His companion huffed in frustration at how dense her beloved could be at times when he wished to be, "Yes, Cesare, _ready_. I feel I am quite recovered from the birth."

He stopped in his tracks as the meaning of her words hit home and informed him as to what his dear sister had in store for him for the rest of the morning. He found himself to be quite speechless at her forwardness, but wondered at it, for she was ever forward in her advances both towards him and her other conquests. _La Donna Lucrezia _was fearless…and he loved it.

"Oh, I see," he stumbled over his words, "so you wish to…tonight?"

Lucrezia laughed softly at her brother's uncharacteristic loss for words, something only she could bring about, "Yes, Cesare, I do wish to make love tonight. I have missed you, my love. Have you not missed me?"

Cesare shot her a look of sheer exasperation and derision, "My love, if it was not for these two young ones in our arms, I would take you here and now. That is how much I have missed you, dearest sister. If ever I have to spend time away from you, you need not have any doubt that I missed you for the entire time I was absent from you."

The most loved woman in Rome then shifted her precious burden from one arm to the other so she could step in front of Cesare and careful of the baby in his arms, plant a chaste kiss on his pert lips. The kiss started out innocently enough, but soon the lovers felt the familiar pull of their hearts, souls and bodies that promised to overwhelm them utterly and ensure that neither would reach their destinations to set down their children.

"Excuse me, my lady, my lord?" A voice said clearly from the shadows in front of them.

Both siblings twisted round in shock and fear that they had been caught in the act and their secret would be made public. Images of scandal and public defamation swarmed around their minds in synchronicity as though they truly were joined in spirit.

"Who goes there? Who lurks in the shadows? I am Cesare Borgia, so show yourself to me on pain of death!" Cesare demanded, preparing to foist Oriana off on Lucrezia to draw the dagger that was ever concealed in his doublet.

Micheletto stepped out into the open and apologised, "Forgive me, my lord and lady, but you are fortunate that it was I that offered to patrol the hallways of both your apartments, else it would doubtless have been one of the other guards who stumbled upon you. You should be more guarded in your affections, if you please, My Lord Borgia," he said, looking sternly (as he always did) at his master, "for it would devastate poor Micheletto to see either or both of you cast out for the love you bear each other."

As the pair relaxed, Lucrezia spoke up, "You are quite right, Micheletto, we were foolhardy to assume that these halls would be completely empty and safe. You shall have an extra purse to reward you for your quick thinking and action in volunteering to patrol our length of corridor. As ever, you have my brother and my eternal gratitude, my friend."

Hearing his sister address his manservant and ruthless assassin as her friend shook Cesare from the rut he was in as he recuperated from the adrenaline rush that Micheletto brought on by alarming him so. He raised his eyebrow at Lucrezia who just shrugged and waved him off.

"You can leave the hallways to the palace guards now, Micheletto," Cesare told him calmly, "but I would like you to find a spot in my antechamber tonight and keep vigil over Oriana. A pageboy sent from Prospero Colonna in Forli reported that somehow Rufio has not been found amongst what remained of Caterina's forces and is suspected of having quit the city to come to Rome. I think he will come for his mistress' last living child and I would not have him get her, Micheletto. She stays with me. It was her mother's dying wish."

Micheletto nodded as he walked behind his lord with his right hand held over his heart as he was accustomed to stand, "I understand my lord. Rufio will never be able to get past me."

Lucrezia walked off with Alessandro in her arms and handed him to his nursemaid when she reached her bedchamber. She asked her to stay and watch over the infant as she told her she had to be away tonight. Then, she changed into her nightshift and donned a sleek robe of cyan with gold threading that made her look like a water nymph that had just stepped out of a blue, clean stream before heading out of her room and walking down the hall to her lover's bedchamber.

She walked into Cesare's antechamber with a nod to Micheletto and a peek into Oriana's beautiful, ornate cradle to see that the baby was sweetly slumbering. She could not wait any longer to see her lover so she placed a kiss on the babe's head before gliding into Cesare's bedroom to find him shirtless and sitting on his ottoman waiting for her.

"You took too long, my love," he whispered seductively, "I have been waiting for you eagerly."

She danced over to him, "I am deeply, deeply sorry for hurting you and for keeping you waiting, but why are you wasting time with conversation when we could be doing something far more satisfying and amusing?"

Cesare laughed freely, as he was only wont to do in his sister's company, in whose presence he could truly be himself, "Very well, I shan't delay any longer, my love."

With that, he strode swiftly over to her and wrapped his strong arms around her body, clutching her to him forcefully while his lips dashed to meet hers in a passionate kiss that spoke of the deep love he bore her that he had not been able to truly express since she was with heavy with child, which was almost a month ago.

"I have missed these lips." Lucrezia mumbled against them.

All Cesare could do as she spoke was take advantage of her open mouth and invade it with his tongue as he licked her plump bottom lip and explore the contours and blessed lines of her sweet mouth that he already knew so very well and would not be able to forget even the slightest detail. It was not long until the obstruction of her clothes were divested and thrown to the floor as they stumbled their way to Cesare's magnificent bed growing barer and barer with every step until Lucrezia stood completely nude before the bed.

"I see some inequality here, brother," she said teasingly, "I am standing here as God made me while you lie there still clad in your clothes."

Cesare laughed once again, "Well, sister, I am tired, so I think you will have to do all the work this night and I will just have to lie back and enjoy your ministrations. What do you think of that?"

She joined him in laughter, "I haven't properly thanked you for my new family, my lord so I have no issue with doing all the work."

Lucrezia hastily undressed him and climbed up on top of him and kissed her way from the crown of his head to his waist. He was ready for her and she was slick for him. With blinding velocity, she straddled him and sheathed his manhood in her walls. The moan that left his lips as he stretched her and filled her completely was divine, as if God had joined them in the room of their lovemaking. When she echoed his rapturous moan, she felt intense pleasure mixed with intense pain. There was no feeling like Cesare Borgia within her making her feel loved and whole but she was still in pain from childbirth but it had mostly subsided so she had invited Cesare to take her to bed, willing to experience both feelings for the sake of Cesare and the love he held for her.

Micheletto stood in the antechamber, in the shadows as always, waiting for trouble to strike, but this time, it would be striking at the very heart of this new Borgia family. It had been a long few days for him and if he had been honest with his master, he would have admitted that he was too fatigued to keep guard all the while they were fucking in the next room. He had a fondness in his heart for Lady Lucrezia and Cesare had seen him through many ordeals and difficulties and he was as loyal as he ever was to the oldest Borgia child.

He leaned against the cool wall in the antechamber believing that the coldness of the plaster would keep him awake but he was mistaken. As he fell asleep, his senses became dulled and his body became weak with sleep.

A knock rapped quietly at the door and then when no one responded, the interloper came in to the room ignorant of the silent assassin sleeping with his eyes open as he always did in the corner, hidden by the shadows, looked in at the baby girl asleep in her cot with a smile at her innocence. He heard noises coming from the bedchamber and was sure that Cesare Borgia was awake to listen to what he had to say.

As he approached the door, he heard Cesare speak faintly so he hesitated when he reached for the handle of the door, but when he heard no reply he assumed he must have just been muttering away to himself. The horror he saw when he pushed the door slightly ajar shook him to the very depths of his being. The image of the Duke of Valentinois thrusting his privy member into the Duchess of Bisceglie as she writhed and grinded into him and he grunted his desire at her as her breasts bounced up and down as they heaved together in their lovemaking. It was vile. It was sordid and wrong.

"No, I can't believe it," he groaned wretchedly, "it is not possible. They wouldn't…they wouldn't damn themselves to hell."

This soft speech was all it took for the napping assassin to jump into action and see the shadow of the slender man who was violating the privacy of his lord and lady, something he could not allow and had the lovers realised their tryst was no longer their private affair, he was sure Cesare would have ordered him to squash what – or who – threatened the secrecy of their love. Before the intruder could even turn to face the man whose hands would squeeze the life out of him, Micheletto crossed the room in silence to clutch the throat of the unknown trespasser and noiselessly snatch his life from him.

Only when the lifeless corpse fell to the floor did Micheletto see whom he had murdered and it was not Rufio…it was someone else entirely, whose death he was not sure Cesare and his sister would have wished for at all. However, the deed was done and now Micheletto had to ensure that he would not be held responsible for the death of this man who lay at his feet, so he shot a glance to the cot containing Oriana and picked the key to the apartment up off the table so he could lock the lovers in with the baby to keep them safe while he took away the body to dispose of it. He would have to make the death appear the fault of the dead man's wife somehow, otherwise too many questions would be asked and the answers would shatter the column that held the Borgia family up so high.


	34. Death Becomes Him

**Chapter XXXIV - Death Becomes Him**

"_You've strangled the life of a fellow human being who could live and love as you never could…and never will again!"_

_~ Arthur Laurents_

"Rouse His Grace! Rouse the palace!"

As the palace guards hurried through the halls, Cesare grew concerned with the children whom he was tending to. He had told Lucrezia after she had skulked back to her own bedchamber at dawn that he wished to spend some time with all his children, including Giovanni and try to get all three of them to form bonds with each other, so she had time to call upon one of her female acquaintances who had just got married to some Italian noble booby or other.

"What is it? Micheletto!" Cesare bellowed, which caused all three children to immediately cry as they sensed the panic in their father's voice.

The darkest thought entered his mind. His imagination created a world where something tragic had befallen his sweet Lucrezia on her way back to the Vatican and she was taken from him. He sent up a prayer to a God he wasn't sure existed to spare his love if she was the cause of the uproar in the papal palaces.

"Nurse! Marianna! Come see to the children! I must away at once!"

He grabbed his sabre and went in search of his manservant, who – it had not escaped his notice – had not answered his call. If something was afoot, Micheletto would surely know something of it, unless he had retreated to his cave, for it also occurred to Cesare that when he woke, Micheletto should still have been in his antechamber but the stalwart assassin was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he had been too harsh in his demand that Micheletto avoid sleep for such a long time, but it was inexcusable for his daughter to have been left unprotected.

"Signor Boncavallo," Cesare greeted the Commander of the Guard, "what is happening? Why are the guards waking the household at such an ungodly hour?"

"Your Grace, it grieves me to inform you that your brother, the Duke of Squillace has been found dead in his quarters. Strangled, milord."

The abruptness with which the dolorous and unexpected news was delivered did nothing to help the bereaved sibling as he struggled to accept that Gioffre, sweet Gioffre had been taken from him and the rest of his family. It briefly sent his thoughts reeling back to the moment when he had sent Juan careening over the edge of the bridge into the Tiber but that was different…he had eliminated Juan as a threat to the family and to Lucrezia's happiness. He could see no reason for anyone to murder the youngest Borgia in his bedchamber while he was unarmed and defenceless and not even give him a chance to call for assistance.

"Do the rest of my family know? Does my mother?" He asked, his voice quiet with misery.

"His Holiness has just been told and is in his private chapel," Boncavallo said, "but word has not yet been sent to your mother's villa. We have been trying to keep everyone in the Vatican last night who might have had a hand or been a witness to the Duke's demise."

"Very well, I will go now myself to tell my sister," he said as he caught sight of Lucrezia returning through the window, "and then we will go together to our mother's villa. Send someone to inform my father of this."

Cesare did not wait for assent; he merely turned away and walked towards the gates where he knew his beloved would be heading. He did not know the words that would inform her of her youngest brother's death and cause her the least pain or offer the most comfort. It was just a task that he would have to undertake and perform swiftly, for there was no one else he would prefer to bear the grievous news to his sister.

"Lucrezia, my love," he called out to her, "will you step in here for a moment with me?"

Normally, such a request would be highly risky and entirely uncivilised, but under the present circumstances, no one would have questioned Cesare taking his sister into a room so that he could break the news of their brother's untimely death to her in private.

She nodded and took his arm to be escorted into one of the cloakrooms of the Vatican, which were cramped and dusty but served as the perfect little venue for them to be alone together.

"Darling, I have some terrible news to give you today," he began, raising his hand to let his deft fingers caress her rosy cheek, "and I do not know how to tell you for it grieves me to be the one to cause you such severe pain. Not only that, but once I have told you, the both of us need to go to our mother's house to relate the sordid affair to her and stay to catch and comfort her."

"Brother, you are frightening me…"

Cesare sighed and blurted out as gently as he could, "Gioffre is dead, my love."

She staggered backwards onto the bench as if she had been dealt a fatal blow to the stomach and although Cesare tried his best to reach her before she plummeted down to the seat, she hit the wood with a thud and a flood of tears streaming from her eyes.

Her brother, the onlooker, waited for her to weep for a time before kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in his own to plant kisses on them until she felt able to compose herself.

"How? How did he die? He looked so well at the banquet."

Cesare rubbed his face with exhaustion, "He was strangled, _mi querida_. We do not yet know by whom, but I suspect someone sent by either the former Duchess of Squillace or the Duke of Mantua had a hand in his murder."

The grief-stricken sister could very well see how Sancia could have the will and wherewithal to see her former husband dead, but the Duke of Mantua?

Her devastated brother saw the look of disbelief cross her face and responded, "The Duke of Mantua has a child now…a son to call his own, but the illegitimacy of that boy has been publicly acknowledged and scandalised by our father's bull declaring her marriage to Gioffre ended. There is also the small matter of him viewing the slight as another heinous act our family has committed against him."

"What have we ever done to Gonzaga?"

Cesare scoffed, unable to believe she had forgotten the debacle concerning the Duchess Bianca, "Sister, you forget that he accused the Pope of cuckolding him and then forcing his wife to take her own life. We must go to mother. She has no idea."

She remembered the incident well once he had jogged her memory, but her mind was still reeling from the news as she took her brother's arm.

"Once they had arrived at their mother's villa together, they saw that Rodrigo was already there holding a wailing Vannozza tightly in his arms with tears streaming from his own eyes onto her hair. In that moment, the moment of true grief when parents felt the permanent absence of their child, both surviving siblings saw how Vannozza and Rodrigo used to be when he was still just a cardinal: hopelessly in love with and dependent on each other.

Vannozza spotted her two remaining offspring standing in the doorway and beckoned to them to join the embrace of grief. She wanted to cling to them and feel the life flowing through their every vein and their hearts sustaining them. She sent up a heartfelt, quick prayer to God who had taken two of her sons from her to preserve and protect her son and daughter.

Rodrigo felt his lover's arm reach out and detected the presence of his children, whom he had never truly seen until that moment. Lucrezia, after the birth of her second child, was pale and had reddened, bloodshot eyes from crying, but was still effervescent in her beauty, the true gem in his papal crown whom he had sold so callously and without consideration to the highest bidder twice. Cesare, his eldest son and his only surviving male heir, stood unfalteringly at his sister's side, his face gaunt and haunted. He had all the ambition and drive that Rodrigo possessed in his youth, but he let it push him into acquiring as much power as he could for himself, whereas Cesare's motivation lay with Lucrezia and protecting her. He should have supported Cesare in his quest for power and procurement of armies, for all that the oldest Borgia child sought to do was safeguard his family, instead of attempting to circumvent his will. He decided in that moment to hand over the control of the papal army to Cesare.

"Come, my children," Rodrigo invited them with a choked voice, "we must be as one, as a family during this time of mourning and hereafter. We must end this bickering that we have all tolerated for far too long and unite. What say you?"

They all nodded, all regretting that it took Gioffre's death to bring them all together, but all resolved to try harder to be amicable and loving to each other. Everyone but His Holiness was thinking that it would have to be him who made the greatest amendment to the way he had acted over the past years since before he had taken St. Peter's Throne.

"And I will find out who killed my brother and bring them to justice for their crimes…" Cesare murmured with vengeance staining every word.

Vannozza's fears at losing yet another one of her precious children flared up at his threatening vow, "Later, my love. First we must arrange his funeral and you must bring your wife from France. I long to meet her though it is a great shame it takes a funeral for me to meet my daughter-in-law…"


	35. Another Borgia Funeral

**Author's Note:**

Sorry for killing off little Gioffre, but you'll understand why I thought it a necessary move…it was either him or one of the babies and I couldn't have coped with that! This chapter is just a series of letters, as I wanted to shake up the format of the story a little bit.

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**Chapter XXXV - Another Borgia Funeral**

Cesare sat at his bureau with Lucrezia standing behind him gently kneading the knotted muscles in his back. He had a quill in hand and a slip of parchment blank in front of him, waiting to be the bearer of his words summoning his recent bride to Rome to attend his little brother's funeral and the wake that would follow. His mama had also insisted that Charlotte continue to dwell in the Eternal City with her so that she could be introduced to the only daughter-in-law that she would ever know now.

"I do not want her here," he moaned, "she explicitly said she never wished to come to Rome and to be frank, it makes me nervous the thought of her being about me."

Lucrezia fiddled with his defined ringlets, "Why, brother?"

"Because she is my wife, my love, she will expect to share my bed and if I do not play Sir Loyal Heart to her, she may suspect me of being adulterous and then she will petition the Pope for an annulment and I can wave farewell to my French troops!"

As she heard his voice get more and more agitated, Lucrezia massaged his tensed shoulders with more zeal and purpose, wishing to soothe him and erase all his pains and anxiety. She knew that Charlotte d'Albret had come with a mighty dowry that her brother needed to keep her and the rest of their family safe and in that way, she was valuable to Cesare, but in the deepest, darkest corner of her mind, she wondered if her lover felt more for his wife than he was letting on. If he felt affection for her – or even love – she did not know how she would bear it, not when she had given her heart to him without qualms. She could not abide sharing his heart with another.

After his sister ceased her ministrations, Cesare began to compose the missive that would be the first letter he despatched to his faraway wife since he had returned to the Vatican. He had penned and sent many on the road and she had sent replies but since his return to Rome, the habit had died.

_To my beloved wife, Charlotte,_

_I know my letters have been few and far between, so I apologise with a sorry heart for not writing to you sooner, but things in Rome have been difficult and my time has not been my own. It is for this reason that I put pen to paper and send this epistle to you, my dear._

_I have sad news to tell you, I am afraid, news that requires you to journey to Rome with haste. My youngest brother, Gioffre, His Grace the Duke of Squillace has been assassinated, we suspect by his former wife, the current mistress of the Duke of Mantua, but that is still conjecture. We plan to hold his funeral in a fortnight, so you must be in Rome by then, sweet wife, for you would not wish to delay the sad event._

_Another matter that I have not had the opportunity to apprise you of before now is the important matter of my ward and adopted daughter – thus also your adopted daughter – Oriana. She is the daughter of Caterina Sforza, delivered in the woods by my hands and brought to Rome to be raised alongside my nephew, Alessandro, who is a thriving baby only days younger than Oriana. My sister has taken to her with fervour so you need not worry about her care, but I would like you to meet her, though she will stay with me in Rome._

_My mother has invited you to take up residence for a time in her own villa so you will not have to live in the palace in the Vatican. She also has expressed a great desire to know you better and I would like for my beautiful and enchanting bride to have a cordial relationship with her mother-in-law, so you are invited and expected to remain as her guest for a time after my brother's funeral takes place._

_In anticipation of your reply and subsequent arrival, your devoted and loving husband,_

_CB, Duke of Valentinois_

"What do you think of that, my love?" He asked his companion as he concluded his letter.

She had peered over his shoulder watching as he wrote each word, judging as he went, but she was impressed with his tone and the words he had chosen to convey to Charlotte that she had to travel to Italy and that he still thought of her fondly.

"I think it is very well-written, though I do wonder at your calling her 'beloved' and 'sweet'. One might almost think you loved her, Cesare."

He looked back at her in shock, knowing what erroneous thoughts were trampling the thoughts of love in her mind, "My love, my dearest, I love none but you, still you must understand how I have to appear the doting husband. You know me better than to suspect I let any other have a hold over my heart but you. You will see when you meet her why I have to ensure that she suspects me not of infidelity, for she is like yourself in that she is a woman of force, one I have no desire to cross, Lucrezia."

The slightly more pacified sister nodded glumly, not entirely convinced that she was being told the truth, but she was content to give Cesare the benefit of the doubt and reserve judgment until she met the renowned beauty and force of nature, Charlotte d'Albret.

Vannozza sat in her own solar, ready to pen a letter to her dearest friend in the world despite their brief rivalry over the affections of Rodrigo announcing the death of her sweetest and youngest child.

_Dear Giulia,_

_I hope this letter finds you and your husband well and still in the midst of marital bliss! I trust that it at least finds you in better health and spirits than I currently find myself. There is such terrible news that I have to tell you: my son Gioffre is dead. He was murdered, Giulia, strangled. Cesare believes that the whore, Sancia of Naples, his estranged former wife who has taken up with Gonzaga, arranged for his murder._

_Rodrigo is understandably distraught and will not permit anyone to be close to him, not even me and he has even restricted Cardinal Sforza from entering his chambers or coming near him. It is too much to bear for me, my friend! He is the Pope but he will not fulfil his duties he says, not until Cesare can discover our youngest son's killer and bring him to Rome in chains for justice and execution. I have never seen him so affected, not even when Juan was taken from us did he retreat from his family so. He refuses to eat and drink. He has done so ever since he came to inform me of the tragedy two days ago. I worry for him. I worry that should he not eat or drink, he will die and then Lucrezia, Cesare, the three little ones and I will be all that remains of our family and I doubt my son, though he commands great armies and most of the sons of the Romagna, will be able to keep us safe without a Borgia occupying the throne of St. Peter._

_The funeral is in two weeks, Giulia, so please entreat, beg and cajole your husband to bring the both of you back to Rome so that you may attend, for I need you at my side. I fear that though you once called me strong, this event has broken what remained of my spirit and courage. I need my friend to weather the storm that has descended upon us._

_Your dear friend,_

_Vannozza Cattaneo_

Rodrigo, the Pope of Rome, Christ's vicar on Earth, the heir of St. Peter, the greatest of all of the Saviour's apostles had the irksome and dire task of inviting and informing all the nobility of Italy and the family that another Borgia soul had crossed to the other side in an untimely fashion. The one letter he was dreading was the one that needed to be written to Francisco Gonzaga bidding him come to Gioffre's funeral along with Sancia the Harlot of Naples.

_From His Holiness, the Pope of Rome, Alexander Sextus to His Grace the Duke of Mantua,_

_We have sad tidings to convey to you, Lord Gonzaga, but we hope your spirits are much restored since the sad and regrettable demise of Her Grace. We know that you held our sacred person to blame for her suicide, yet in the wake of our own tragic loss, we would have you come to Rome with the former Duchess of Squillace and her child to mend the breach betwixt our families that has been allowed to grow too wide. It is of great sorrow to us since our houses once were allies and the most steadfast of friends._

_You must be curious as to whose death we mean. It is that of our own dearest boy, Gioffre the Duke of Squillace, your guest's estranged husband. We know that in spite of the recent discord between husband and wife, Gioffre will still have some place in her heart and she will – naturally – wish to pay her respects and bid farewell to him and pray for his eternal soul._

_Upon your arrival, our family and we would be much consoled if you would dine with us and tell us of the news from fair Mantua. _

_Adieu,_

_Il Papa_

It was a concise note to be fair but Rodrigo had over a dozen more to have couriered off to their destinations spread throughout Italy and though the Duke of Mantua was an important invitee, he had no wish to dwell on the invitation to the prime suspects (as he – and most of Rome – saw it) of his youngest son's coldblooded murder.

It was like bile to his tongue thinking of the marriage into which he had coerced his youngest and sweetest child. It had been a loveless and lopsided match from the beginning with Juan interfering with his sister-in-law before the bride had met the groom. He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner and addressing the problem before it swamped Gioffre's entire life and led to the severance of the relationships they had cultivated between the Holy See and Naples.

Naples…what a godforsaken pit! He was at a loss to know how it was possible for such a hive of shamelessness to wield such power in Italy. He wished with all his being that Florence and Naples could be interchanged, for Florence and the Medici family had always been allies and reliable throughout everything, yet Naples, a principality he had taken into the heart of his family not once, but _twice_ over with his two dearest children, had royally fucked him over. It was something that had to be punished…Sancia, Alfonso, Frederick would all have to be dealt with be they dead or no. Rodrigo would never suffer Naples to act against him or his kin ever again.

He left his desk. He had to find Ascanio, as he was not going to write any more of the damned announcements or falsely courteous invitations to the funeral of yet another one of his beautiful, precious children. Enough was enough and it all had to be over. They had beaten the Bitch of Forli…now they would have to turn their eyes to the Traitors of Naples. The Borgia family had to be kept safe and he would do _anything _and _everything _to keep what remained of his family safe from harm.


	36. Burial

**Author's Note:**

I have been moving into my new flat at university and sorting out my course for this year, so have not been able to get much writing done, but this is the result of two consecutive nights' insomnia, so I hope you enjoy it and review it kindly. Also I have just recently purchased the Kindle ebook, "The Borgias Apocalypse", which is the screenplay that Neil Jordan intended to conclude the third season, so will let you know my thoughts on it at some point…

* * *

**Chapter XXXVI - Burial**

He stood by the ruins outside the city, a place the Lady Lucrezia had told him of, trying to find the answers to his many questions. Micheletto desired nothing more than to please his lord and master. He would – in fact – do _anything _to satisfy Cesare Borgia and protect his interests and those of his family. He had sacrificed love, life and blood and sweat to be of service to the Duke of Valentinois, but he when the moment came when he was a liability and danger to the Borgia clan, he had performed what he had believed was his final task for Cesare and had quit Rome. He had returned on another man's orders to his master's service and had once again done something so wrong and so abominable that he knew that no matter how far he ran, no matter how well he concealed himself, lied to protect himself, Cesare Borgia would discover him as the killer of his beloved brother and hunt him until he was dead, hanging from the walls of the Vatican.

"Micheletto, His Grace is searching for you." A lady's voice whispered from behind him, her voice almost obscured by the sound of the flowing brook that coursed past the ruins of the ancient Roman villa.

Swiftly, without hesitation, he spun around to face the intruder on his privacy, his knife already poised to kill in less than a second, but when he saw the familiar face that was staring him deep in his icy eyes, he gradually lowered the threatening blade in his threatening hand.

"You should not be out here alone, milady," he said kindly, "His Grace would not approve and is probably worried for you as we speak."

She smiled, "Cesare is speaking in consistory regarding the plans for Gioffre's funeral, so he is too busy and frustrated to realise I am not in the palace. So, Micheletto, I am all yours. What brings you out here?"

"A troubled soul and a rueful heart, Lady Lucrezia," he replied sullenly, "and what calls you out to these ruins, if I may ask?"

A nod was his only response. It was not uncommon for both surviving Borgia siblings to offer him curt replies but they never chided him for overstepping his mark but instead treated him as a friend, which trust he had now betrayed so wantonly. The Duke of Squillace's death would haunt his dreams and his every waking moment for much longer than Pascal's death would and he had never imagined that another would take his former lover's place.

"Come, Micheletto," she invited brusquely after taking a moment to take in the natural, untouched, pure beauty of the sweet blue stream that flowed beside where they stood, "we must return to the Vatican. Cesare has been sore for your company…as have I. These past days have shattered him, my strong, indomitable brother, Micheletto. I used to think nothing could make him afraid, nothing could grieve him, nothing had the vicious power to prey on his mind, but as I have aged, I have seen him differently and many things, too many things, dear friend, weigh heavily on his already weary mind. I think also that only you and I ever have the power to calm him or soothe him, so we must be closer to him than we ever were before, for now – now we have the children – he has so much more to lose than ever before."

He returned her nod and gestured respectfully for her to lead the way back into Rome, back to Cesare Borgia and his debilitating grief, which Micheletto would have to watch and keep his truths to himself for they would do neither Cesare nor his lady any good if he revealed the truth to the mourning siblings.

When the absconders came into Cesare's study, they were greeted and pestered by a host of cardinals and household staff who had all been plaguing the Duke for decisions on various matters concerning the upcoming funeral, which was looking to be as grand an affair as any king's funeral had ever been.

"Lady Lucrezia, it is good you are back! What do you prefer for the wake after the Duke's funeral: roast duck or suckling pig? We already have others but the _Gonfaloniere_ could not choose either."

"My Lady, what do you wish to have for the material of your gown: silk or taffeta?"

"Your Grace, lilies of the valley or carnations either red or white, whichever you prefer we can have sent from Umbria?"

Micheletto and the lady being constantly manhandled by the swarm of servants pushed their way past the horde to find Cesare sitting at his desk, clutching at his head with white-knuckled hands. It was a sorry sight indeed. The young, vivacious man who thrived in battle, action and under pressure was being torn down and conquered by the vultures surrounding him.

"All of you, be quiet," Lucrezia shrilly ordered, "you will – _all _of you – leave from here at once and take your questions and demands to the Vice Chancellor. He will now make every petty decision in regards to my brother's funeral. Now, go! Leave us in peace, if you please."

Once the crowd of strangers had quit the room, she swiftly went to stand behind her brother's chair and rested her hands on his taut shoulders, lightly letting him know that she was there to catch and comfort him as best as she could. Micheletto had already taken up his rightful place at Cesare's right-hand side.

His own musings when he caught sight of his formerly unbreakable commander took a much more grim turn than those of Lucrezia did. He knew in his heart of hearts that it was his fault that Cesare Borgia was being forced to endure this hardship and pain. All he was able to do now was protect and shield him from any more pain, for he would never suffer anyone else to wound him so.

"I can't take this anymore, sis," he whispered in a broken, husky voice, "not when _this_ should not be happening at all. He can't be dead, Lucrezia, he just can't be…"

She sighed, "And yet we have both seen his body, his sweet, motionless body with no life or soul inside, which we have to bury now, my love."

It was then, with the memory of what Gioffre's corpse had looked like spread out on his bed dead, that he wept and wept and wept until his eyes grew red and his face stung from the salty tears. The only sensation he was aware of while he cried over the papers strewn across his broad bureau was the silk of his sister's gown enveloping him and rustling against his doublet as she embraced him and held him firmly to her breast as he sobbed. All he could do in return was cling to her like a baby in his unbearable anguish.

If there was one who was more affected by Cesare's grief than the aggrieved himself, it was his manservant, who knew in that moment when his master's arms encircled his mistress' slight midriff that no one could ever know that he had been the one responsible for the youngest Borgia's tragic death. It would have to be his burden to bear, for all he could do to try and rectify his mortal error was throw more of his energy into serving the Borgia family and defending them.

As the trio waited for Cesare to gain control of himself and regain his countenance, Micheletto heard the door to the suite open and cleared his throat so as to warn the lady that she ought to right herself before the intruder caught her and her brother in a compromising position, one which would do naught but stoke the rumours that abounded throughout the city and all Italy. Both brother and sister heeded their confidant's warning and Cesare wiped his face and once more sat up straight in his imposing chair, while Lucrezia stood further back from said chair and smoothed down her somewhat creased gown but kept one hand on the top of the chair, in an attempt to grant Cesare all of her strength should he need it.

A lanky pageboy skulked into the room and headed directly for the study where he could hear the faint noises of people before announcing to the room, "Your Graces, the Duchess of Valentinois has arrived. She awaits your company, My Lord Borgia, in the audience room."


	37. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

Having finished reading the "conclusion" to my favourite TV show (probably ever!), I find myself highly dissatisfied with it. I don't want to give too much away so you should all read it yourselves and reach your own decisions but lately I have found that no matter what I watch or read I manage to think of something good that I can put in this fiction or adapt for this fiction, but for that e-book: nothing! If it had been made into an episode or TV movie, or whatever, I would not be more impressed but less so as the actors would have portrayed it so well that I would not have been able to get it out of my head. I will say this though (spoiler alert!) that it undermines the entire last scene of the show, which I really liked, aside from the fact that it marked the end. Showtime, you are still inept and as unfair to fans of this show as Fox was to fans of "Firefly"! Rant is over now, so I hope you enjoy this chapter…

* * *

**Chapter XXXVII - First Impressions**

Cesare and Lucrezia strode into His Holiness' main audience room, having abandoned Micheletto, who did not wish to meet his master's lawful mistress, but preferred to go to the nursery and ensure that the three Borgia children were safe and taken care of. The Borgia siblings were steeling themselves for an awkward and uncomfortable encounter and needed no more witnesses to the interview between estranged husband and wife than was absolutely essential.

The woman walking to meet her sister-in-law for the first time recollected her words as she had watched her brother write to his wife and the feelings of resentment and envy that had accompanied them. She still felt inferior to the Duchess of Valentinois, the renowned beauty, Charlotte d'Albret, even though she was a celebrated beauty herself and the Dowager Duchess of Bisceglie, though some forgot that her title was still that of her late husband and his family not her own, so she was no longer the Duchess. She recalled Cesare telling her that she and Charlotte were similar in some respects and that the two women would probably get along with each other as long as they both kept their claws at bay. This diagnosis of the situation did not help in the slightest. She was still predisposed not to like – let alone love – her brother's bride; she would leave that to her mother.

More pressing matters than those of affections were plaguing the husband about to see his wife. He could not help but feel that in the room only paces ahead of him was the woman who was going to shred him to pieces for daring to adopt a child for her and for demanding anything of her, for both had made their expectations of the match incredibly clear at its inception. He had fulfilled his side of the bargain in a manner of speaking, for he had given her the child she craved but it was not a child born of her womb or conceived with her blood. He would face her wrath for that, or at least, he would be expected to impregnate her quickly so she could return to France with a child of her own. He suspected she would also require an explanation as to why he had named his sister's son as his heir when he was by no means incapable of siring children and his wife was not barren. It worried him that he had not yet managed to devise an excuse for that particular deed.

"She has arrived early…" he murmured hesitantly as they both stood before the immense oak doors that separated them from the unexpectedly early guest.

Lucrezia grasped his hand, "Steel yourself, my love, you would have had to face her sooner or later and better that it be when she is inclined to feel some pity for you."

He chuckled at how his sister had a knack for hitting the nail directly on the head and with a final groan he pushed against the hard wood and entered the papal audience chamber where his wife awaited him.

"My lord husband," Charlotte greeted him with false warmth, ignoring her sister-in-law completely, "what a pleasure it is to see you again…in _Rome_!"

Her husband grimaced, "Charlotte dear, it is lovely to have you by my side once more, though I am sorry you had to make such an arduous journey with such short notice. I do wish I could have introduced you to my family under better circumstances. Yet it appears that if I waited much longer I might not have as many relatives to introduce you to…"

Lucrezia smiled, impressed with her brother's suave manner of making it impossible for his wife to blame him or scold him for carting her from France to Rome. She knew that he was a talented wordsmith and he most certainly had a way with the ladies. It was that aspect of him that had made his wife believe he would make an ideal mate for her, it had made her think that their forbidden and sacrilegious love would withstand everything the world had to throw at it.

Charlotte laughed sweetly at her husband as she glided towards him with all the grace she had learnt in the bosom of the French court, "Cesare Borgia, you will not sweet talk me into forgiving you for this, but I will leave that conversation for later tonight. Right now, I wish to meet my new daughter…Oriana, is it?"

He nodded, oddly pleased that she was so keen to see the light of his life and had actually correctly remembered her name. All he managed to do was extend his hand and offer his arm to his wife to escort her up to the nursery that the three Borgia babies shared. The Duke and Duchess walked right past Lucrezia without a word to her, but the Duke did give her hand a fleeting squeeze as he left the room.

When the couple reached the nursery, Charlotte instantly released her husband's arm and plunged forwards toward the infants lying in their cribs. She noticed Giovanni playing with a wooden horse that was carved for him by Micheletto on the floor, but already knew he was the eldest illegitimate child of Lucrezia Borgia. The only girl in the room was sleeping in a cot opposite her adopted brother, her thumb planted sweetly in her small mouth. It was unseemly how she had managed not only to wrap her adopted father around her little finger, but now her adopted mother as well.

Charlotte hoisted the precious bundle up into her arms and waltzed around the room singing an old French tune quietly to ensure that the small baby remained happily slumbering against her breast. She smiled in contentment at her husband, all anger and disappointment forgotten. All she desired from this life was a child to call her own, hopefully more than one if she could coax her reluctant husband into bed more than once and when she had read the concise note that informed her that she was a mother and that she was expected to be in Rome for her brother-in-law's funeral, she had seen red. Now, holding the sweet, little baby that she could see as her daughter, her mind had entirely changed. She utterly forgave her spouse for imposing this charge on her, but she still expected some of her terms to be met before she returned to Avignon.

"She is beautiful, _non_, Cesare?" Charlotte asked, "Quite the _petite mademoiselle_."

He nodded in response, walking over to them and softly caressing Oriana's smooth cheek, "She is, indeed. She also seems very happy to meet you."

"She knows her _maman, n'est pas, ma petite_? I love her already, Cesare."

Those words made Cesare do a double take as he really did not expect his wife to bond with his daughter so quickly, but before he could ask her opinion on the little girl and how she should be raised, Lucrezia arrived on the scene with the Pope on her heels.

"Ah, hello, Oriana," Lucrezia said happily, gesturing to be handed the child, who had begun to wake, making her rival incredibly aware that she was the second maternal figure to the baby, "how are you today, my love? Have you met somebody new? Yes, yes, you did, my lovely."

While the others in the room watched as Lucrezia cooed at _her _adopted daughter, Rodrigo greeted his daughter-in-law and welcomed her to the Vatican and was very cordial to her, with the exception of his rather inappropriate jest concerning the need for her to produce a trueborn heir for her husband, which prompted said husband to pinch her elbow in support of her.

"Father, my wife must be tired after such a long trip," he announced, "and I want to introduce her to the family properly at supper. I have already sent a messenger to mother informing her of Charlotte's arrival, so we are all to dine together at her house. The children will be with us, so we will be travelling with a full retinue. There is much preparation to be done, so if you could have Charlotte shown to the chambers alongside my own. I would like to sit with Oriana for a while seeing as she is awake now."

"Very well, very well, spend time with your bast-," his father said, "_adopted_ child instead of accompanying your wife to her chambers to conceive a legitimate heir to our dynasty."

The rage that ploughed over Cesare and Lucrezia's faces at their father's words could have slain their brothers and Caterina Sforza and Vitelli all over again. Daggers tipped with poison were flying out of their eyes towards their father's heart and all Charlotte could do was spectate as the Borgia family fought amongst themselves, a family she had married into.

"Leave, father, please leave now," Lucrezia counselled, "leave before you embarrass us further in front of my dear sister-in-law."

The Pope flew out of the nursery, taking Charlotte with him, leaving the lovers with their children, both appalled by his behaviour. Lucrezia still had Oriana safely in her embrace and Cesare whose arms were feeling bereft, bent down to where Giovanni was sitting placid as ever just happily playing, oblivious to the tension in the room, and pulled him into his lap to let him play with the laces on his doublet (one of his favourite pastimes).

"I see what you meant."

Cesare looked up at his sister swaying above him, "What are you talking about?"

"When you spoke of the similarities between your wife and me, Cesare, I understand what you were referring to."

He chuckled slightly, "Found a friend in someone of whom you were so vehemently jealous, sis? How quaint…but I expected such a turn of events. It is funny that if you were not my sister and the one, true love of my life and she was not my wife, the two of you might have been close in another life, I suppose."

"Alas, brother," his sister and lover replied with a coy smile, "I am who I am and she is who she is and there is nothing you, I or God can do about that. All I know is that I would love you no matter who I was and I believe, Cesare, that you would still love me if you were not the Duke of Valentinois or the Gonfaloniere or a former cardinal. For us, titles and our name are of little import. The only things they affect are the clothes we wear and the number of people we can kill to achieve what power our father craves, what power you crave, my love. If we were poor, country peasants, the only thing you would control at the most is how our sons would harvest our crops and the only husbands I would be able to be rid of would be farmers and blacksmiths and carpenters, not Princes and Dukes and Counts, but our cards have been dealt and we have to live as Borgias."

Cesare Borgia stared into the beautiful orbs of Lucrezia Borgia with teary eyes, completely blown away by her profound words to him. He was ever staggered by her ability to show wisdom in times of distress or hardship. After he picked up Giovanni, he looked down into her stunning eyes and kissed her striking lips, "You are the life of me, Lucrezia Borgia and you are right. I would love you even if you were a commoner dressed in rags and I was the highest prince in the land, I would still seek you out and fall in love with you the _instant _I laid eyes on your beautiful, gorgeous face."


	38. A Family Dinner

**Chapter XXXVIII - A Family Dinner**

Cesare felt ethereally confident as he walked over his mother's threshold with his stunning wife on his arm dressed to impress the rest of his family. Charlotte looked like an angel sent by God himself dressed in purple silk and with her long brown tresses strung up into an elegant but not boisterous hairdo. He had opted for a much less extrovert outfit for the evening, following his brother and Machiavelli's advice, he dressed purely in black.

When he gazed at his wife, he thought it a great pity that his heart was lashed firmly to his sister's, for in a different world, a different time perhaps, he might have found himself utterly enthralled and in love with his bride. As he turned the corner into the dining room of , he made sure he cleansed his face of the glow that resided there before Lucrezia saw it, for she read him like the simplest book on the shelf and he knew she was already feeling wary of Charlotte's presence in Rome.

"Mother, good to see you," Cesare greeted Vannozza as he kissed her on the cheek, "the house looks lovely."

His mother smiled up at him, "Thank you, my son. Your wife's presence in Rome suits you. She should be by your side more; it softens you."

All the blushing groom could do was nod awkwardly at his mother before he led his wife to greet the other two members of his family.

"Good that you both are here," His Holiness pronounced gruffly, "now, we can eat."

With that said, the party sat down to eat the sumptuous feast of roast partridge and braised veal, garlic prawns and lobster poached in malmsey wine. The entire table was laden with the most beautiful delicacies that only the Pope and his family could afford in one sitting during the time following one of the largest mercenary campaigns Italy had ever witnessed. Vannozza had wanted no expense spared for the welcoming dinner she laid out for her only daughter-in-law and her pension from the Vatican had felt the hit. She was sure that she could ease some more out of the Vatican through her lover at a later date anyway.

"So, Cesare," Rodrigo began, "what are your plans now that the Bitch of Forli is dead? I mean, you have the whole French army at your beck and call at _my_ gates doing nothing. Are you going to wreak any more havoc on Italian soil or will you despatch them back to France where they belong?"

They were only an hour into the meal when Rodrigo turned the conversation away from family matters to politics and when the event occurred everyone else at the table's hearts and appetites hit the marble floor. Vannozza had wanted a night that was just about her family, not the family that was hell-bent on power, but her simple and uncomplicated family. Lucrezia desired above all an evening away from her brood of children, whom she loved dearly, but who had been stealing her sleep away from her. Charlotte wished to see what the renowned Borgia family, into which she had married, was truly made of and how she would fit into it. Cesare needed to have one night where he pretended to be in a normal, functional family, where husbands loved their wives and brothers doted on their sisters, not the other way around. Rodrigo simply craved the knowledge that his Papal throne was secure from the growing threat and influence of his son and the vast army he could call upon at any second to ravage Italy.

"Rodrigo, enough!" Vannozza yelled, "You are not talking of politics or armies or being Pope or anything! As the mistress of this house and mother of this family, I forbid it. Today is the first time we have been able to dine with Charlotte – it's even the first time we have met her – so you are not spoiling this dinner with awful conversation, Rodrigo. Choose another topic to speak on, my dear, for me."

Her lover nodded sullenly and apologised to the party and continued to chew at his leg of lamb.

It was then that a pageboy ran into the dining room completely unannounced and passed a Papal bull to His Holiness.

"Speaking of new and more pleasant topics," Rodrigo said to his family, taking the already sealed roll of parchment from the page and then brusquely gesturing him away, "I wish to inform you all that before Gioffre's funeral next week, I am going to have him named as _Gonfaloniere_ posthumously. This is the bull that makes it official."

Nobody knew what to say to that, so once it appeared that no one had any objections to voice, Rodrigo signed the paper, Alexander VI and beckoned the pageboy to come and retrieve the document and take it back to the Vatican where Cardinal Sforza was waiting for it.

"If you do not mind, Donna Vannozza," Charlotte asked, breaking the silence, "what was Gioffre like? I never got to meet any of my Cesare's brothers and I am curious to know your other sons better…"

"Of course I don't mind, you are part of this family now, after all. You should know more about the family than you do."

"Indeed," Rodrigo concurred and avidly took up the opportunity to talk, "Gioffre was a delightful boy as he grew up and turned into a brilliant and brave young man who was taken from his family too soon, but what God wills will come to pass. He married young and did his duty by this family by taking Sancia of Naples to wife. That marriage was not a happy one and recently we declared it annulled and he was about to begin again. Then, we found him dead – strangled – in his bed one morning and as of yet, we have not found the culprit, but as our eldest and remaining son has been promising us, we _will_ find he who stole the breath from the body of our _dearest_ son."

It was plain to everybody listening to the Pope's speech that he had just insulted and preferred his deceased son to his living, but the children of Rodrigo Borgia were accustomed to such words and dismissed them without paying them much heed at all, but to the newest member of the family, the negative feelings and enmity that Rodrigo showed towards his son came as a shock.

Seeking to change the subject, Charlotte moved the topic onto the son whom she knew had not been a popular member of the Borgia clan, "What about your other son? Juan?"

Vannozza respected the Charlotte d'Albret for how she managed to get around Rodrigo's words but she was not fast enough to manage to avert him carrying on his tales concerning his dead sons.

"Well, Juan is a different story, one very different to that of his youngest brother."

Cesare interrupted his father, not willing to give him the chance to tell Juan's story, "Actually, Holy Father, the stories do not differ as much as you believe they do. Both of your sons did your bidding to the letter, both married into noble and royal families of Spain and both are now _Gonfalonieri_ of your army, both you preferred to me, both had Sancia of Naples and both were unhappy in the last days of their lives, though only one managed to disgrace the family, the other was the epitome of filial obedience and virtue."

The woman on his left gently rested her hand on his taut thigh under the table so no one else could observe the forbidden gesture of the sister as she comforted and showed her unfailing allegiance to her brother. She did not wish to mediate between the men in her life, as time and time again it had proved a fruitless endeavour and had – more often than not – placed her in the bad books of both.

"Now that has been said, might we not talk of more enjoyable things," Lucrezia suggested with hope in her musical voice, "like the children?"

As if Fate herself had overheard the Duchess of Bisceglie's words and found a way to complicate and put fear back into the hearts and minds of those who had for the past week rested on their laurels, a second servant hurried into the room, his face red and his eyes wide, to interrupt the family occasion.

"My Lord, My Lady," the boy said as he bowed to Cesare and Lucrezia, "you must come with me at once. The Countess is very sick!"

At that news, Cesare and Lucrezia bolted up and ran for the door, not waiting for anyone to join them and the pageboy flew out of the house in their wake.

Charlotte was curious as to the identity of this mysterious Countess, who had not been introduced to her yet or invited to this supper although it seems she merited her husband and his lady sister's flight from the room with no other questions.

"I wonder what can be the matter. She seemed fine when I saw her yesterday," Vannozza commented, attempting to keep the worry absent from her voice, "I believe you saw her today, Rodrigo. Was she well?"

He nodded before sitting down once more and indicating that the two ladies should follow suit and replying, "Yes, she seemed to be in good health and spirits, though I am convinced that she does not like me at all, but then again, the feeling is mutual."

"Rodrigo!"

Charlotte interjected, "Please forgive me, but I have not met this Countess. Where is she from? Who is she?"

Vannozza frowned at her daughter-in-law, "Oh, I thought you met her and the boys this afternoon?"

"Excuse me, no."

Rodrigo looked up in surprise at Charlotte, "Ah, I see! Actually, you did, daughter. The Countess is the Countess of Forli, your adopted daughter, Oriana Sforza."


End file.
